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THE DOUGLAS NOVELS 

POPULAR EDITION 

By Amanda M. Douglas Cloth New uniform 
binding Per volume ^i.oo 

BETHIA WRAY’S NEW NAME 
THE HEIR OF BRADLEY HOUSE 
OSBORNE OF ARROCHAR 
CLAUDIA 

FROM HAND TO MOUTH 
HOME NOOK 
HOPE MILLS 
IN TRUST 

WHOM KATHIE MARRIED 
THE FORTUNES OF THE FARADAYS 
LOST IN A GREAT CITY 
NELLY KINNARD’S KINGDOM 
OUT OF THE WRECK 
STEPHEN DANE 
SYDNIE ADRIANCE 
IN WILD ROSE TIME 
IN THE KING’S COUNTRY 
A WOMAN’S INHERITANCE 
FLOYD GRANDON’S HONOR 
THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A 
SHOE 

FOES OF HER HOUSEHOLD 
A MODERN ADAM AND EVE IN A GARDEN 
SEVEN DAUGHTERS 


LEE AND SHEPARD Publishers 

BOSTON 


FKOM HMD TO MOUTH, 


BY 

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS, 

Author of “In Trust,” “Nelly Kinnard’s Kingdom,” &o. 


BOSTON : 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 



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Copyright, 1877 , by 
LEE AND SHEPARD 

Copyright, 1905 , by 
AMANDA M. DOUGLAS 
All Rights Reserved 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


CHAPTEE I. 

** Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits.” 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

“ Give a boy a trade, and you give him a fortune,^’ said 
grandfather. “ It has been the great mistake of my life. 
A trade is a passport for travelling all over the world ; 
or if, on the other hand, you are content to stay in one 
town, there are opportunities to go in business and make 
money. Some of our most noted men have had the wis- 
dom to learn a trade.’" 

With that grandfather breathed a long whiff from his 
pipe, and leaned back in his arm-chair with an air of com- 
placency, as if there was no gainsaying his argument. 
Grandmother gave a soft, purring sigh, that had in it a 
httle regret, as she glanced at the four brave, manly boys 
around the fireside. 

“ I have always regretted it so much in my own case ; ” 
and grandfather stroked his beard with his white, slender 
hand, delicate as a woman’s. 

There is a great deal of character in hands. Some are 
full of vigor, and seem formed to grasp the right end of 
fife, to hew down forests, bridge rivers, build a ship or a 
steam-engine. Others impress you with the idea of tena- 
city ; what they once take hold of they never di’op until 


6 


FEOM HAi^D TO MOUTH. 


they have wrung out its secrets. The Durant hands were 
not of this type : there was some old Huguenot blood in 
them. There may be a subtle charm and refinement in 
this much coveted and bepraised blue blood ; but, to live 
in these later days, one needs the vim and vigor of the 
bright red. Is it true that old things have passed 
away? 

I may as well go on with a bit of family history. For 
more than a hundred years, the Durants had been grafted 
upon American soil. Whether they had not taken kindly 
to it, or had been unable to find the exact spot where they 
might have thriven, I hardly know : certain it is they had 
increased neither in wealth nor numbers. They were 
gentlemanly, refined, truthful, honest. God-fearing people, 
above petty meanness, rather dreamy, and given to think- 
ing of what they might have done in some other sphere. 

I don’t know that I quite subscribe to the theory that 
every person is in the right place, and that he is to work 
out his destiny in any accidental sphere to which chance 
has called him, whether he is fitted for it or not. 

So Joseph Durant, aged twenty-eight, the possessor of 
two thousand dollars by inheritance, married pretty Mary 
Burnet, who had a house and farm of some forty acres. 
He had no taste, or, as country-people term it, faculty, for 
farming. Without being wasteful, they could never seem 
to make their whole living out of the ground. The money 
went, next a bit of woodland, then a lot to straighten the 
Davis Farm ; then a mortgage was added to educate the 
boys. Grandmother made mild suggestions, and after- 
ward 3'ielded to her husband’s views. 

There was one more in the family" circle. Mrs. Durant 
had brought little Bessie Evans home from her mother’s 
grave, to the warmth and shelter of the cheerful fireside. 
Her mother had been the village mantua-maker, and the 
relatives fell back a little to see what would happen. A 
rich aunt in the citj' oroposed she should be bound out in 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


T 


some farmer's household, as the city was a dangerous 
place for girls. 

Dear mamma ! I can seem to see the little girl with 
her fair hair and violet eyes, the sweetest eyes in the world 
yet, though they have known sore trouble and anxiety, and 
looked into the face of death. But it was a happy girl- 
hood there in the Durant family. As the boys mapped 
out their lives, she sat nursing the cat upon her knees, and 
piecing a wonderful quilt, — a rising sun, “begun just 
before father went to his trade." We have it yet, and to 
this day it is a library of romance to me. Here are scraps 
of her schoolmates’ dresses, and each has its history. 
What girlish frolics and courtships and marriages have 
been spun out of it ! And through it I have come to have 
an old-fashioned love for patchwork. 

“ I’m bound to have a trade,’’ said Joseph, as soon as 
grandfather made a pause, — “ a good trade, and one that 
I like. Not that I should dislike farming if one could 
have a start ; but the trade is more attractive. I shall be 
sorry to leave home ’’ — 

“ And cities are so full of temptations !’’ sighed grand* 
mother. 

“ O mother dear ! ’’ and Joseph laughed in his breezy, 
wholesome fashion, “isn’t there a good deal of humbug 
in that ? Does any one ever take into account the country 
temptations, the indolence, ignorance, stupidity, and that 
moderate cider-drinking which no one considers any harm, 
yet it paves the way to other things? Why, at Gassy’ s 
wedding, some of the pride of the town were — foolish, to 
say the least. What recreation have we ? what interest 
and amusement? It is just vegetating, a merely negative 
existence. I want to do and to enjoy something.’’ 

“But there are theatres and gambling-dens,’’ was the 
timid rejoinder. 

“And churches and lectures, and music and libraries. 
I’d like so to read, and to talk with people who had & j \ 


8 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


interest beyond fat cattle and crops, and whose chief 
variet}^ is to seed down last year’s corn-land into ‘ med- 
der,’ and take their wheat to a different field ! I want to 
know something about the great world outside.” 

“ Joseph is like me,” said grandfather, knocking the 
ashes out of his pipe, and proceeding to refill and re- 
light. “He needs the mental friction. Mere labor of 
the hands, when one’s mind is not in it, tends to stupidity ; 
and a man is best fitted for the thing he can do the best. 
In it he may be a success.” 

“ I do not ever count on being rich,” said Joseph. 
“ But if I could have a shop or a store of my own, and- a 
comfortable home, with a few mce little things, and a 
daily paper, and ” — 

He paused there with a rising flush. The other was so 
sacred, so far off ; yet, boy as he was, he had dreamed of it. 

“ You’ve quite settled upon cabinet-making, then ; ” and 
James, the elder, drew a long breath of satisfaction ; for 
he had just solved a tough problem for his younger broth- 
er. “ Your \fiews are very moderate, Joe. Now I mean 
to be a rich man, though I do not think I shall make it at 
a trade, or at farming. — And, father, I’ve applied to-day 
for the Kinbury school : they have had trouble with Miss 
Havens. That is the first step in my royal road.” 

“ You won’t get rich at school-teaching. I wish I 
could educate you for a lawyer. — Mother ” — 

“No: I don’t want you to do any thing more. I 
shouldn’t like law for steady company, nor medicine. 
I looked into them both a httle at the academy. There 
will be a good many stepping-stones ; but some day you’ll 
hear of me as a governor or a senator.” 

“ I’ve made up my mind what I shall do,” began 
Frank breathlessly. “I mean to have two trades. I’ll 
be a mason in the summer, and a shoemaker in the winter ; 
and, as fast as I earn any money, I shall put it in the 
bank.” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH, 


9 


The boys all laughed at this. Frank flushed rather 
angrily. 

“You could stay at home and be my boy,” said grand- 
mother in a sweet, encouraging tone. 

“Don’t try to make Bettys of the bo3"s ; ” and grand- 
father frowned a little. “ I want them to strike out for 
themselves. What we have will about last our time out : 
so we have no fortunes to give the lads.” 

Grandmother sighed. 

“ Never mind,” exclaimed Joe, who went around, and 
kissed his mother tenderly. “We will make our own 
fortunes, and j^ou shall be proud of us in your old da3'S. 
When I am gone, you must not be thinking that I shall 
rush headlong into temptation. I do believe I shall find 
more resources of merit in the city than in the country. 
There is something beside the mere eating and sleeping.” 

Grandfather had finished his pipe again (he never al- 
lowed himself but two in the evening) ; and now he began 
an argument to show the superiority of trades over every 
thing else. When he was once started in real earnest, 
there was small chance of any one else getting the fioor. 

Yet he did not content himself with mere talk. He 
roused out of his placid mood, and went to the city for a 
week, hunted up some half-forgotten connections, and 
secured his second son a very good place. Joseph had 
evinced a decided genius for cabinet-making. Forty years 
ago seems a long while to look back. The world was 
not over-crowded then, and perhaps greater respect was 
paid to honest industry. There was not much trouble in 
finding a place for Joseph ; and a young man from the 
country was heartily welcomed. He was past sixteen, 
and was apprenticed until twenty-one. He was to board 
with his employer’s brother, who was foreman of the 
manufactory, and have tlfirty dollars a year, with a 
chance to do overwork the last three years. 

James, meanwhile, obtained the Kinbury school. He 


10 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


was very successful, and quite elated with his venture. 
Frank and Robert took their turn at farm-work ; but it 
seemed to them hard and dull for the small return. There 
were no markets handy. Eggs and butter were taken at 
Rollins’s store ; and the principal amusement of the town 
was congregating there in the evenings, pla3dng checkers 
or dominoes, and having a drink of cider. Once a week 
the “Sentinel of Freedom” made its appearance, and 
was eagerly perused and discussed. 

Yet Medford was a nice, tidy, country village, quite up 
to the average. There was httle business in the place ; 
and, though pastoral life may be highly extolled in poetr\", 
cows and pigs do not tend to fire one’s brain with ambi- 
tion. The fancy farming of a later da^" had not then 
broken out : even posy-gardens were rather frowned on 
as a waste of time. Raising mammoth strawberries, or 
ti’ansplanting and cultivating blackberry - canes, would 
have been considered idiotic. 

The next August Joseph Durant came home for a two- 
weeks’ -visit. He had grown tall, but lost something of 
the ruddy countr^'-look, and began to have more of his 
father’s refined appearance. He liked his business im- 
mensely, and his emplo^ws as well. He had been to 
hear some of the celebrated ministers, and had a subscrip- 
tion to a hbrarj^ Such feasts of reading ! 

“ Next year I shall take a paper and send it to you : 
father will enjoy it so ! One apprentice earned nearly a 
hundred dollars last year at overwork. Think of that ! 
I hope to have a little laid up when I am out of my time.” 

He had brought Bessie a beautiful work - box, inlaid 
without, and lined with blue velvet. A silver thimble and 
pair of scissors made her the happiest little girl in Med- 
ford. For his mother there was a box for handkerchiefs 
and laces, and a secret drawer for jewelry. 

What a grand holiday it was ! 

“ The country is delightful, after all,” said Joseph to 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


11 


his mother. Why can’t some freshness and brightness 
be infused into the living? I often think of father. His 
lot ought not to have been cast in the country : he might 
have made something of himself elsewhere.” 

So the years went on. The Durant boys inherited a 
certain thrifty vigor from their mother. James taught 
school for two years, then kept books for a mining com- 
pany some sixty miles distant. Next he took charge of 
a lumber-mill, and speculated a little. Thi’ee years later 
he went West. 

“A rolling stone,” said the good people of Medford. 
But, some time after, he gathered gold, if he did not 
gather moss, by marrying the daughter of a woollen man- 
facturer, and going into business with him. 

Joseph meanwhile prospered. At twenty-one he found 
himself master of a good trade, a considerable miscella- 
neous knowledge that he had picked up by reading and 
observation, a hundred dollars that he had saved, and the 
promise of steady employment. Beside this he was en- 
gaged to Bessie Evans, who was sixteen ; quite too 3"oung 
to be married, mother Durant insisted. Then there was 
all the wedding-outfit to make ; and, oh, how could she 
spare her own dear little girl ! 

Frank had put his purpose into execution. He had no 
fancy for books or study. During the summer he worked 
with Mr. Collins the Medford mason, and in the winter he 
joined Sam Townlej’^’s gang of shoemakers. Sam took 
work by the case, and divided it into portions, with so 
many men or boys at each. It was esteemed quite an 
honorable and lucrative employment. 

Robert helped his mother to carry on the farm ; but they 
had hard work to pay the interest on the mortgage. Mr. 
Durant grew paler and thinner, dozed and dreamed, and 
finally went quietly down to death, not giving the grim 
old destroyer any trouble, — a man hardly beyond the 
prime of life, whose days had passed aimlessly, who, 


12 


PROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


without one positive vice and many estimable qualities, 
had made a failure of life. Was it the fault of circum- 
stances ? 

There is a portrait of him as a young man, painted on 
ivory, that looks as if he might have achieved something. 
Yet I suppose his was a kind of idyllic existence, and he 
was negatively happy, theoreticall}" ambitious. 

Grandmother looked about her then. It would be best 
to sell the farm, since none of the boys cared to take hold 
of it. 

“ If it were not for the mortgage, we might keep it as a 
homestead,’* said Joe; “but the expenses are more than 
the rent of a place would be. The Connett Place, Frank 
tells me, is offered for forty dollars a year ; and, if you 
want to keep house for the boys, there is plenty of room, 
and nearly all the keep of a cow, beside the garden. And 
you would have the interest of your money.” 

Sell the house in which she was born ! Her mother 
had come here a bride, her father had added rooms and 
acres. Her husband — well, there had been five children 
instead of one, more furniture, more education, a broader 
manner of living, which she could not bring herself to 
regret. 

There were no mji:hical cities in every little hamlet then, 
no greedy speculators rushing in with fabulous prices. 
The place was sold after a while, the mortgage paid, a 
tombstone put up, and all little debts cleared off. Then 
Mrs. Durant found herself the possessor of thirty-five 
hundred dollars placed at five per cent interest. The 
two boys would pay the rent and living expenses in the 
new house. She would take her two cows, pigs, and 
chickens ; and her contribution would be the profit of 
these and the work of keeping household matters square 
and tid}^ 

But Bessie must be married in the old home. There 
were great preparations made. Such a wedding-cake, 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


13 


such other cakes and pies, and jellies and whipped creams, 
to say nothing of cold meats ! and such piles of bed and 
table linen, such numbers of cunningl^'-adorned garments, 
all hand needlework ; quilting-frolics that were full of 
fun, every girl trying to wrap herself first in the new quilt, 
so that she should have the first lover. 

Then came the eventful night when Bessie Evans 
dressed herself, with so much trepidation, in her pretty 
India mull, with its thread lace, and the veil and fiowers 
Joe had brought from the city. 

“She was such a slim young thing grandmother 
would say in talking it over. “ But there never yfas a 
prettier couple in Medford ; for your father, my dear, was 
the handsomest of aU my boys. I couldn’t have loved 
your mother any better if she had been my own daughter, 
and — thank God ! — there’s never been any change.” 

There were dancing and merry-making, and then neigh- 
borhood parties given in their honor. If the fashion of 
bridal gifts had not come in, there was much generous 
and friendly giving of hospitality in those days. 

The young couple went to New York, and began their 
home-life in three rooms, for which they were to pay five 
dollars a month. A nice large yard, with a big cherry- 
tree and a grape-vine, and — oh, joy ! — one little garden- 
spot, where Bessie could raise lettuce and radishes and 
cucumbers. But it seemed so dreadful to buy every pint 
of milk, every egg, and to pay for vegetables that fairly 
went to waste in country-places. The money vanished so 
rapidly ! 

Mother Durant soon became settled in her new home. 
They heard of James’s marriage and his success. Now 
and then Bessie and Joe went out to spend Sunday ; and 
in August they made a two-weeks’ visit, which mother 
was to return in the winter. 

Frank Durant took a partner unto himself presently, 
one of a large family of girls who had never been especial 


14 


FEOM KAJS^D TO MOUTH. 


favorites with Mrs. Durant ; but, as she wisely said, “ her 
sons must suit themselves.’’ Hetty Bayhs was called one 
of the smartest girls in town. She stitched fine shoes, 
working early and late, and had saved up two hundred 
dollars. They went to housekeeping in a few rooms ; and 
she looked closely after her husband’s earnings, that he 
should not waste any thing on his mother. 

“ Your mother has money of her own,” she would say, 
‘‘ and you are just beginning life. We shall need every 
thing we can make.” 

But she was very willing to take, — a loaf of bread 
(mother Durant made the best bread in town) , some fresh 
eggs (she didn’t keep any hens, they were a bother and 
expense when you had to buy feed) ; then, too, she was so 
busy, she couldn’t spend time cooking and fussing. Many 
a nice dish found its way over to Frank’s, because Hetty 
was no cook. Sometimes there was a little pain at the 
mother’s heart: she had always spent herself for hus- 
band and children. In this case the old adage came 
true, — 

“ My son is my son till he gets him a wife.’^ 

Robert went to work with the village carpenter. Lift- 
ing some heavy timber in framing one day, he was badly 
strained, and kept an invalid for several months. Then 
he took a clerkship in Rolhns’s store ; but, after two years 
of this, he went to New York, and found a place as clerk 
and book-keeper in a shoe-store. 

Grandmother Durant gave up her cottage. The old 
nest was no longer needed. She had promised to hve 
with Joe and Bessie : so now she sold her stock, endowed 
Hetty hberally with some carpets and furniture, and went 
to those who loved her best. She had saved up some 
money, and now had four thousand dollars, which she 
placed out at six per cent. 


CHAPTER II. 


“Myself against the level of mine aim.” 

All’s Well that ends Wel 

Ten years had passed with Joseph Durant and his 
sweet wife Bessie. Their first-born baby, little Joe, had 
gone back to heaven. In the Medford churchyard a tiny 
cross marked his burial-place. Other babies had been 
added : the changes of the j^ears and the times had gone 
over them ; but, on the whole, they had been very happy. 

The aspects of trade were altering rapidly. Foreigners 
came in, and did exquisite work at ruinous prices. Ma- 
chinery, with its tireless iron fingers, took the place of 
a dozen men here in this branch, there in that. Wages 
increased for skilled labor ; but rents rose every year ; pro- 
visions became higher : and the test of respectability was 
not honor and honesty, but the manner in which one lived. 

A business opportunity came to Joseph Durant. One 
of the first friends he had made in the city, a journeyman 
then, was in business in a neighboring city. He wanted 
a partner and a little more capital. He called in the 
factory, and saw in Mr. Durant just the man he would 
like. Mr. Durant made him a visit. 

“ It is all as Travis represents,’’ he said on his return. 
“He is a good, reliable man, and his business character 
excellent. The trouble with him is, that he bought the 
property rather than remove ; and his money is locked up in 
that. If I had the capital, I should not stand a moment. 
And Northwood is a pretty half-city, half-country place ; 

15 


16 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


while New York grows worse every year. There will 
soon be no room for nice middle-class people.” 

“ Rents are getting exorbitant. Mother and I have 
been talking about Harlem or Brooklyn ; but there again 
is car-fare and ferriage. I should so like to have the 
children somewhere else, and, if we could ^ live in a house 
by ourselves.” 

“ I wish we could, indeed,” and Durant sighed. “You 
would like Northwood so much, Bessie ! Nice cottages 
are renting there at two hundred dollars.” 

‘ ‘ And we pay two hundred and forty dollars for this 
floor! O Joseph! isn’t it possible?” and she looked at 
him beseechingly. 

“ Travis wants flve thousand dollars. That would 
make a man equal partner in the business, he pa;ydng as 
rent half the interest of the property.” 

“ And in ten years we have only been able to save up 
twelve hundred dollars,” said Bessie dejectedly. “ Three 
dollars a day seems fair wages : but flve dollars a week for 
rent, and somehow I can’t get through on less than ten 
dollars for household expenses ; and that leaves three for 
sickness, savings, and extras,” with a sad, sweet smile, as 
it meant, for the most part, babies. There were four 
now, — one boy and three little girls. “And yet we 
have not been extravagant. Our parlor- carpet is only 
three-ply, when so many people have Brussels. We have 
never taken an expensive journey, never gone out to the 
country to board, and I do all my own sewing. How is 
it?” 

“ There is not much money to save on so small an 
income.” 

“ Hetty has done much better.” 

“But how have they lived? — and, as mother would 
sa}^, not a chick nor a child.” 

“ If 3'ou only could go into business ! ” 

“ I may meet with some other opportunity/*” he replied 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


17 


with a comforting smile. “ If I did not have to go to 
business so early, we might live in a suburb, and have a 
httle garden.” 

“O Joe dear, how happ}^ five thousand dollars of our 
very own would make us ! ” 

“ Are we not happy as it is? ” 

She kissed him tenderly for answer. 

“ Joseph,” his mother said that evening, when Bessie 
had gone to put the children to bed, “ I want to talk this 
Travis offer over with you. It seems to you an excellent 
chance, you say.” 

“Yes, mother. It isn’t every day that a practical man 
is wanted : I mean a working-hand. Now, our firm have 
taken in two of the salesmen since I have been with them. 
Neither of them learned the trade. But Travis wants a 
man who can attend to the manufacturing.” 

“ Northwood will be a pretty place to live in. I used 
to visit there. Your father had some connections. And 
now, son, I want you to take my money. You can pay 
me the interest. I shall always have my home with you, 
and that is worth something.” 

“ Oh, don’t speak of that, mother dear! You pay for 
your keep a dozen times over. What could Bessie do 
without you I But to risk your money ’ ’ — 

“ Then you would have to take care of me all my 
days,” and she gave a fearless smile. 

He seized her wrinkled hand, and kissed it fervently. 

‘ ‘ Why should you not begin for yourself ? It is hard 
for a man to get along on journeyman’s wages, if he 
has any thing of a family. Bessie is a thrifty house 
keeper, and a treasure with her needle ; but she cannot 
make fiour or beef cheaper, nor lessen house-rent if she 
lives at all nicely. Your poor father used to think a trade 
was a man’s best inheritance ; but surely you work much 
harder than Robert, who has a thousand a year. And 
James is a rich man already.” 


18 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ Eobert’s accident was a lucky thing for him. He has 
an easier berth, dresses like a gentleman, and earns more 
money.” 

“And now you ought to have a little luck, my good, 
generous-hearted Joseph.” 

“ But, oh, if I should lose it ! ” 

“ Don’t think of that. Come, dear, put aside any fool- 
ish scruple. Let your loving old mother help you to a lit- 
tle good-fortune. You always were my favorite, and you 
have been more thoughtful of my comfort than any of tha 
others. And it is not absolutely necessary that the money 
should be saved up for the rest : they are all prospering. 
Come, take courage. — Bessie, help me to persuade him.” 

Bessie entered the room at that moment, and sat down 
on grandmother’s footstool, leaning her arms over the 
kindly knee, as she had often done in childhood. They 
went carefully over the ground. She was too well pleased 
to see many difficulties in the way. 

“ If you only could make a little money for old age, 
Joe ! We would be rigidly economical. We might find a 
lower rent : you said rents were more moderate at North- 
wood. Oh, do let us try ! ” 

Their united pleading conquered him. 

“We might take a holiday, and go to Northwood to 
look about. Mrs. Kane would see to the children. I 
shouldn’t hesitate a moment in risking my own money ; 
but, mother, if I should be unfortunate, Bessie and I will 
try to pay you interest in the best of love and care.” 

“ Do not feel troubled about me.” 

The holiday took place the ensuing week. Mrs. Kane 
came one day to do the washing, and ironed all she could 
in the afternoon. Now she offered to finish, and to mind 
the children. It was a bright, crisp October day, with the 
glory of autumn still lingering in bits of country-places. 

Northwood was a manufacturing city, less than an hour’s 
ride from New York ; rather slow, but pleasant and old- 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


19 


fashioned, with some wide streets lined with magnificent 
trees, several small but beautiful parks, and edged on one 
side by a winding river, while at the back rose a high 
ridge of ground that overlooked the town, and was filled 
with handsome residences and gardens. There were 
pretty suburbs in almost every direction. Only the centre 
of the town and a mile or two along the wharf was closely 
built ; and most of the rows of detached houses and gar- 
dens gave you a sense of freedom and roominess. 

Business-people were solid rather than showy. Few 
flaring signs and outward displays of rivalry in the shops 
and stores ; and the continual hurry and bustle of her 
larger sister was entirely lacking. The churches were 
handsome and well ordered, a substantial post-office, a city 
library into which they strayed, and were well received, 
some sohd-looking banks, and grave business-men going 
to and fro. 

They found Mr. Travis’s warerooms ; and the ladies 
rested while the gentlemen talked. Then Mr. Travis 
insisted upon their going home to dinner with him, and 
afterward he drove them about the city. 

Bessie was dehghted. “I shouldn’t be a bit home- 
sick,” she declared. “ I really covet one of these pretty 
cottages with an actual garden. How splendid it would 
be for the children ! And you really do not mean, Mr. 
Travis, that they let for ten and twelve dollars a month ! ” 

“Yes, many of them. Now here, Durant, is some 
cheap property. You might almost call it out of town ; 
and yet it is very near one of the railroad-stations, and 
the horse-cars going to Montrose pass within a block or 
two. A Mr. Allen who owned all this property — it was 
his father’s farm, in fact— has built up this row of cot- 
tages, and offers them for sale at twenty-four hundred 
dollars apiece. The lots are twenty-five feet by one 
hundred and thirty.” 

Bessie looked at her husband in blanlt amazement. 


20 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ I suppose he could get more for them ; but he makes 
these an object to sell off the rest. A friend of mine has 
just purchased one.” 

“We couldn’t go through them, could we?” asked 
Bessie. 

“ Why, yes, I think so. Some are not quite finished. 
And, oh ! there is Mr. Allen.” 

They dismounted, and were introduced. Mr. Allen in- 
sisted that they should inspect one cottage. 

The gable-end stood to the street. There was a little 
courtyard and porch, and an alley- way ; a nice parlor 
with a plain marble mantel and grate ; a pretty dining- 
room ; and a spacious kitchen with a great roomy pantry, 
sink and water, and convenient back-stairs. Over the 
parlor, space had been taken for two nice clothes-rooms ; 
and it left a very fair-sized chamber. There was a small 
hall room ; but the two other chambers were large. Over 
it all an unfinished attic spacious enough to make two 
more rooms. And the yard seemed almost a farm. 

The terms were veiy easy, — one thousand dollars down, 
and the rest could remain for five years. 

They came home tired as much with new ideas as the 
fatigue of the jornmey. 

Bessie Durant had a second floor of five rooms, three 
of which were small sleeping-rooms. The yard had once 
been ver}^ nice ; but the owner had taken off twenty feet 
for a tenement-house between this and the next street. 
The rear of it was toward them ; but it darkened the win- 
dows, and spoiled the current of air. To be sure, there 
were better places for a higher rent ; but, when they first 
came here, this had been really pleasant. 

The conclusion of all the talk was, that Mr. Durant 
resolved to go in business with Mr. Travis. And then if 
they only could buy the house ! 

“ If business is any thing, I shall make at least two 
thousand dollars next year by Mr. Travis’s showing ; it 


FEOM HAKD TO MOUTH. 


21 


maybe more. And, although owning a house at present 
would hardly be as cheap as pa}ing rent, in time to come 
it might be cheaper. We shall have two hundred dollars 
left over. I think I’ll see if Frank won’t lend me some.” 

He took a journey to Medford. Frank and Hetty were 
going on in the same industrious, pinching manner, and 
living in two rooms. 

Frank would have obliged his brother willingly ; but 
Hetty hesitated and objected, and finally admitted that 
they had let her uncle have the most of their savings. He 
was to pay eight per cent, and, as soon as he could get his 
partner out of the business, Frank was going in ; for he 
found his mason’s emplo}Tnent severe ; and sitting so 
much in the winter gave him a pain in his side. They 
might want the little money they had. 

Mr. Allen finally agreed to sell the house, and take the 
first thousand dollars in monthly instalments. They paid 
two hundred down, and had the deed made out in grand- 
mother’s name. The 1st of January he completed his 
business arrangements, and left his old firm. His fellow- 
workmen regretted him warmly, and, together with his 
employers, presented him with a gold watch. 

When Bessie found that her rent was to be raised three 
dollars a month, she announced triumphantly that they 
had bought a house of their own. 

“You’ll find property does not pay in the long-run,” 
said her landlord. “ There’s such hosts of repairs and 
taxes and insurance.” 

But Bessie thought she should like to try it. 

They moved on the Ist of April. The children were 
wild with delight ; and Bessie could hardly keep straight, 
she said to Joe. 

“ We are to take two thousand dollars apiece out of the 
business this year, and divide the profits at the end. I 
shall have to pay three hundred and fifty for interest on 
the buildings. We shall have to manage very closely for 


22 


FEOM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


a year or two. I don’t count on being a rich man ; but if 
I could have a little for you and the children at the last.” 

“ You foohsh old darling, why will you persist in dying 
first ? I shall not let you ; ’ ’ and Bessie gave him a fond 
pinch. “ I expect us both to live to a good old age.” 

“I hope so, I am sure.” 

“ I do not know how we can ever spread the furniture 
around,” cried Bessie, as she took a survey of her new 
house the next morning. “ But oh, to think of the sun- 
shine, and the fresh air, and the garden, and a nice large 
grass-plot! Why, it seems like beginning hfe all over 
again.” 

They had put up the kitchen- stove, and one up stairs, 
to take off the chill of the sleeping-rooms. And now 
Bessie sat down in the midst of her household debris, and 
began to consider. 

The interest, taxes, and insurance that Joe will have 
to pay this year, amount to about eight hundred, without 
this first thousand that he is to pay by instalments, two 
hundred having been paid on that : so I shall have just 
four hundred to live on this year. That will not bu}^ me 
many new carpets. Oh I we have undertaken too much, I 
fear.” 

“But he need not pay my interest this year,” said 
grandmother. “ I have about a hundred dollars by me, 
and will be your banker, dear, if you fall very short. And, 
Bessie, think how nice our great kitchen was at Medford, 
with its painted fioor.” 

“Oh, deUghtful 1 I shall paint mine. And why not the 
dining-room for the summer, and two or three of the 
chambers? They are so much larger than ours in New 
York ! ” 

Joe laughed a little at first, and then admitted that it 
was a good idea for the present. They could manage 
with the parlor-carpet. It was not long enough, and too 
wide. Grandmother insisted upon buying herself a new 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


28 


one, and, by dint of resewing and piecing, they looked 
quite tidy. The paint cost but a trifle, and then they had 
their great drugget to lay down in the dining-room. 

Mr. Durant was to come home to a noon-dinner, and 
take a little lunch for tea, as three evenings a week he 
was to remain in the store. The elder children were sent 
to school ; and Bessie was the busiest of bees that sum- 
mer. She borrowed five dollars from grandmother on her 
own account, and bought a running rose and honeysuckle 
for the front-porch, half a dozen standard roses, garden 
and flower seeds. Archie helped his mother ; and Mr. 
Durant now and then took a half-hour’s turn at the harder 
work. Some of her neighbors sent her in geranium-slips ; 
and she made excursions to the woods, where she found 
ferns and various pretty wild flowers. Now and then they 
had Mr. Travis’s carriage, and that was the highest point 
of delight. 

The first of October they took a survey of affairs. 
Bessie had not exceeded her allowance of thirty dollars a 
month ; she had raised many of their smaller vegetables ; 
she had bought no new clothes save shoes for the children ; 
and she had done sewing for her washerwoman that 
amounted to nearly the whole of her bill. 

“ I have made arrangements with Mr. Allen to let the 
remaining two hundred stand until January,” said Mrs. 
Durant. “We must get in coal, flour, and potatoes. I 
think I shall send to Medford for a winter supply of vege- 
tables ; we can get them a little cheaper. Then you and 
the children must have some winter clothes.” 

Bessie made over hats and bonnets and dresses again. 
She had taken in a number of plants ; and her windows 
were bright with flowers. No one was sick, no extra ex- 
pense anywhere. And when account of stock was taken 
at the store, and the last profits divided, Joseph Durant 
found there were about three hundred dollars coming to 
him. 


24 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ That is ever so much better than journey-work,’’ he - 
said gaj^y. “Why, I feel as if I had Aladdin’s Lamp. 
We have increased om' stock and machinery too, and 
shall do much better next year. And now, little woman, 
you must take it easier. It grieved me to see you work 
so hard last year.” 

James came on to make them a visit. He was a port- 
ly, prosperous man, and talked of thousands as if they 
were the merest trifles. His wife had died. He had sold 
out the mill, and bought property, and would fain have 
persuaded Frank to go back with him ; but Hetty said , let 
well enough alone, she had no faith in people who talked 
so largely. 

Meanwhile one of the partners in Robert’s establish- 
ment had died, and he had bought out the share. But I 
do believe grandmother was prouder of son Joseph and 
daughter Bessie than any of the rest. 

Then Hetty’s uncle died suddenly ; and it was found 
that his estate would not begin to pay his debts. The 
eight per cent had so tempted her, and now nearly all 
their hard earnings were swept awa}^ Frank took a 
severe cold, and was laid up all winter, and poor Hetty 
bewailed their bad luck loudly. Joe and Bessie asked 
them down to Northwood for a yisit. 

Frank had broken ver}^ much, and Hetty looked years 
older than sweet, motherly Bessie, with her httle troop 
about her. There had been one more baby added, — 
another bo3^ 

“ Though how in the world you manage with so many 
children, I don’t see,” said Hett}^ in a fretful manner. 

“ They would drive me crazy. And then the expense ! ” 

Bessie laughed cheer^. 

“ That is counterbalanced b}^ the interest and pleasure. 
You live your 3"oung life over again in your children. 
And I don’t believe, Hetty, that I have worked a bit hard- 
er than you.” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


25 


“And that we should lose all our money!” at which 
Hetty wept afresh. “ Though what I should do with such 
a raft of children now, in Frank’s poor health, I’m sure I 
don’t know.” 

Bessie could hardly imagine, in any case. 

Joseph Durant heard of a position in a factory at shoe- 
cutting, and obtained it for his brother. They took a 
few rooms, and set up housekeeping again. Hetty bought 
a machine, and went to work to help. 

“ Bessie,” she said one day, “ Frank and I were talk- 
ing over a little matter the other evening, and it will be 
a grand good thing for you, a real relief, in fact. I 
wouldn’t so much mind having one girl ; for she could help 
a good deal. Now, I’d as lief take Chrissie ; and I could 
train her to much more useful habits than you will be like- 
ly to do. So many girls are in each other’s way, and you 
don’t get half the work out of them that you can with one 
alone. She’s plenty large enough to leave school, and to 
be piit at something useful. I never went a day after I 
was twelve. It makes such great girls regular tom- 
boys.” 

Bessie Durant opened her eyes wide, and gazed at her 
sister-in-law with the utmost astonishment. 

“ I’m in real earnest,” continued the obtuse woman. 
“ I should teach her to do every thing about the house, 
and give her a trade. Dress-making is real good, I 
think.” 

“Thank you!” returned Bessie, very angry, as she 
afterward confessed. “ So far, we have been able to sup- 
port our large family ; and we hope to succeed in educat- 
ing them. I think Chrissie will have as great variet}^ 
of house-work here as she could possibly have with 
you.” 

“ Well, you needn’t get in such a huff. I daresay one 
of my own sisters would be glad of the chance for any of 
their girls.” 


26 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ Ask them, then,*’ said Bessie indignantly. 

“ You needn’t be so grand, because you are able to own 
a house. We could have bought one a dozen times over. 
It’s a long lane that has no turning ; and Chris may see 
the day when she’ll be glad of so good a home, though I 
am sure I hope you will be able to bring your girls up 
ladies.” 

With that. Madam Hetty flounced out in high dudgeon. 
Bessie caught her baby to her heart, kissed it rapturously, 
and cried a little over it. 

“As if there was one too many! As if you were 
not all welcome to the last penny!” she said passion- 
ately. 

But Hetty told grandmother that she considered Bessie 
“ a very foolish and short-sighted mother.” 

In the course of five years Mr. Durant was able to 
clear off the mortgage, improve his house somewhat, and 
to furnish it neatly. The business was fairly good. 
James had besieged him to come out West and make a 
fortune. He had married again, — the pretty daughter of 
an ex-governor ; and was now mayor of his adopted city, 
president of a railroad, bank-director, and certainly spent 
money lavishly. 

“If I could be quite sure,” said Joe thoughtfully. 
“ I am afraid I couldn’t trust to luck sufficiently. I have 
not the dash and vim of James. I must see my way 
pretty clear before I start.” 

“ And we are very happy as it is,” returned sweet, 
contented Bessie. 

Robert Durant married the widow of the man he had 
succeeded in business. She was both rich and handsome, 
a year or two his senior, and had two little girls. He 
stepped at once into stylish housekeeping. Joseph and 
Bessie were invited over for a Sunday, and were enter- 
tained in a very elegant manner, being taken to drive in 
the park, and feasted on all the delicacies of the season. 


PROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


27 


And Bessie admitted, that Mrs. Eobert was a much more 
enjoyable woman than Mrs. Frank. Even when she came 
out to visit her husband’s relatives, she was gracious and 
ladylike, not half as captious and critical as Hetty. 

“ Eobert seems to step into luck,” said Joseph Durant ; 
but it was with real pleasure in his tone. No man ever 
rejoiced more over the success of others. 


CHAPTER m. 

“ Oh I she that hath a heart of that fine frame, 

To pay this debt of love.” — Twelfth Night. 

Another decade passed over Joseph and Bessie Durant. 
He was all out of debt now ; his house had increased some- 
what in value, and been much improved. Bessie had it 
loaded with flowers. At the back was a row of currant- 
bushes that gave them a bountiful supply, two fine apricot- 
trees, a magnolia that paid for itself in fragrance, a little 
garden-bed, where she still raised her own cucumbers and 
tomatoes (they were so much better fresh), and then a 
beautiful long grape-arbor that almost groaned with lus- 
cious fruit. 

His eldest son had gi'aduated from the Northwood High 
School when barely seventeen. What should they do 
with him ? He had no special taste or fancy, no mechani- 
cal genius. Uncle James said, send him out West, and, 
if he was a smart lad, he could soon put him in the way 
of making a fortune. 

“ He is so young ! ’’ pleaded Bessie. 

“ I used to be very enthusiastic about trades,” said Mr. 
Durant; “ and poor father considered a trade a fortune. 
But I don’t know : every thing has changed so much in 
twenty years ! Machinery has revolutionized labor. I 
could not make ten dollars a week at my trade as I 
learned it twenty years ago, and in the next twent}^ years 
aids and appliances may change again. The disposition 
now is to centralize. A man learns just one branch, and 
28 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


29 


keeps in one groove. And most trades are very sensitive 
to the fluctuations of the times. When a man has a con- 
tract now, he forces every kind of workman into service, 
hurries it through, and discharges half his men afterward, 
because there is nothing for them to do. There is a great 
deal of lost time in so many trades. I could put him in 
the store a while ; for he would make a good salesman : 
but young Travis is there, and he would not be a desirable 
associate.” 

A friend offered him a position in a bank. 

“ As well that as any thing,” said Archie, “ if I can’t 
go out to uncle James. That is just what I would like 
to do, — speculating, and changing about, and trjdng dif- 
ferent things, but, most of all, making money. I don’t 
want to plod all my life, and have nothing.” 

“ I am not sure but going in a bank will be an excel- 
lent discipline,” his father said afterward. “ He wil be 
busy from eight until four or five every day in the year, 
except when he takes his summer vacation. Apprentices 
are seldom bound nowadays ; and their time is their own 
if they choose to lose wages. The first six months he 
gets one hundred dollars ; the second, two hundred, and 
after that regular promotion. By the time he is thirty, he 
will probably be earning twice what I did. To be sure, he 
may get out of employment ; but hardly a week passes 
that some man does not apply to us for work. I declare, 
sometimes my heart quite aches to refuse them. Many 
of them have famihes ; and going to other towns or cities 
is not such an easy matter.” 

So to the bank Archie went, — not from any pride on 
his father’s part : a mechanic was to the full as much to be 
respected in his estimation. But if a man could earn the 
same amount of money by not working as hard, if he could 
have steady employment month by month, instead of being 
ofl* a week now and then, it was much better. He had 
taken a trade under very favorable circumstances ; yet in 


30 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


his time several men had gone into a business they knew 
nothing about, except as they caught it by shrewd good 
sense, and made money. 

He did not want to trust his honest, true-hearted boy 
to uncle James, whose great watchword was success by 
almost any means save glaring dishonesty ; who laughed 
over sharp transactions, and told them as good stories ; 
not a scrupulous man, certainly, although generous in 
many points ; not a man to chng to the upright, simple 
faith of his father. 

Christabel, the eldest girl, was a promising scholar, and 
very ambitious. 

“ I mean to be a teacher,’^ she had announced. “It 
will be so nice to have money of my very own to take jour- 
neys with, and buy the things papa thinks he cannot afford. 
I want to see Niagara and the lakes, and all the large cities. 
And if I could save up money enough to go to Europe ! 

“ Why, you might go on a bridal tour,” laughed Archie. 

“ I don't feel it ‘ in my bones,’ as grandma says, that I 
shall be married. I would rather be a famous woman, and 
do something out of the every-day track.” 

“Harriet Martineau, for instance; but I hope you 
won’t get deaf. Or you might cast in your lot with 
Miss Anthony, and lecture ; only don’t take up women’s 
rights.” 

“ I wish I could lecture, or be a doctor, or write ; but 
I can teach school : so I shall begin with that.” 

“ Good for you ! ” declared Archie. 

Bessie Durant was a proud little mother. Her children 
were healthy and well looking, Archie ever so much taller 
than she, and Chris stretching up rapidly. It seemed 
queer not to have a baby toddling about ; and it gave her 
so much more time, though she still kept busy with that 
tireless, old-fashioned industry. Her girls brought in a 
whiff of broader living. There was so much more in the 
world than she had any idea of at twenty ! The old 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


31 


Egyptians of the Bible became veritable people to her 
when Archie and Chris began to study about them in his- 
tory ; the Greeks with their wonderful mythology (almost 
wicked, she thought it at first) , and their still more mar- 
vellous sculpture, and fine arts that read like fairy- 
legends ; the brave and hardy old Romans, growing civil- 
ized and efleminate by degrees until the Goths and Huns 
swooped down, and dispersed their luxury and beauty 
like seeds that are wafted to foreign climes ; how Bri- 
tain had been conquered and grown, how France had 
waxed and waned, how Luther and Cromwell had set the 
world ablaze with rehgion and freedom, how arts and 
sciences had fiourished, how men had come to read the 
history of the earth by the face of the gray rocks. 
Listening to her children as they gathered round the 
table, she grew into something nobler than a mere house- 
hold drudge, — a pretty and intelligent woman who led, 
rather than blundered before her children, who surprised 
her husband now and then by odd bits of wisdom and 
a shrewd knowledge of and interest in every-day events ; 
a sweet, happy, good woman, whose hfe was a continual 
psalm of thanksgiving that so many blessings had been 
showered upon her. 

Bessie was an admirable housekeeper. Economy was 
made a science, toil rendered less distasteful. She sewed 
on the machine, and fashioned dresses with the style of 
a modiste, trimmed hats with a milliner’s grace. 

Aunt Hetty still carped. When Bessie bought her first 
Brussels carpet for parlor, haU, and stairs, she almost 
committed the unpardonable sin. When Joseph gave her 
a black silk, with thread lace for trimming, the first Christ- 
mas he was all out of debt, Hetty didn’t see how he could 
be so extravagant with that great houseful of children ! 

But Bessie looked over many things for Frank’s sake, 
and often asked them to dinner on Sunday, so that the 
two men could have a nice comfortable smoke and talk. 


32 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


And, when Joseph saw how the confinement of the shop 
told on Frank, he exerted himself to find something 
else. 

“ Frank,” he said one day, “ Kinney’s coal-yard is to be 
sold out at auction, the boys have neglected it so since 
the old gentleman died. There is a fair showing in it, and 
I think it may go cheap. I haven’t any money to advance ; 
but mother has a little, and I could get you some more. 
There is no coal-yard down in that part of the city ; and 
a man who paid good attention to his business would be 
likely to succeed. The out-door air and exercise will be 
just the thing for you.” 

They looked after it. Frank was very doubtful ; but 
Joseph’s bid for him bought it in. 

Hetty was unreasonably angry. Their little money was 
in the bank ; and she declared at first, that it shouldn’t 
be risked in any business. They would lose it all again, 
and he be left penniless in old age and failing health. 
Then he would remember that she had warned, and he 
had gone on in his headstrong way, listening to poor 
advisers. 

It proved an excellent bargain, in spite of Hetty’s fore- 
bodings. They removed to a small cottage in the vicinity ; 
and Bessie declared privately to her husband, that it was 
a relief not to have Hetty dropping in at inopportune 
moments. 

Another incident took up Hetty’s attention about this 
time. Her sister, Mrs. Gregg, was left a widow, with a 
large family of girls ; and Hetty decided to take one. The 
second, Martha, wanted to learn dressmaking, and she 
would work nights and mornings for her board. 

A bright, rosy, well-looking girl was Martha Gregg, 
and smart, in a common-sense and common-place wa} . 
She could read and write, and cast up accounts ; and she 
guessed she should get along, if she hadn’t graduated at 
the high school. 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


83 


So far, it had been smooth and comfortable sailing for 
the Durants. They had worked steadily. No wonderful 
luck had come to them ; but, on the other hand, neither 
had any misfortune. Joseph Durant could count up some 
old friends who had turned every thing into money ; but 
there were more who had just barely hved. When wages 
were good, prices rose ; or a busy season would be fol- 
lowed by a very dull one, and the savings must be used 
to bridge it over. 

Grandmother had grown a httle more feeble as the 
years had gone on : but they hardly noticed it ; for there 
was always a child handy to wait on her, and to save 
steps. 

She had been making a few days’ visit to Hetty, who 
displayed a touch of jealousy now and then. She had 
taken a cold, and had a rather troublesome pain in her 
side. 

“But I shall get better, now that I am home,” she 
said cheerfully. ‘ ‘ Hetty means well, to be sure ; but she 
hasn’t a way of making home real comfortable. It’s a 
draught here, or the fire is forgotten, or it goes out too 
early in the evening. I wish she could learn, for Frank’s 
sake. She is so hearty and strong, that prudence appears 
rather whimsical to her. Dear Bessie, there is nothing 
so good to a man as a good wife ; ” and grandmother 
kissed her darhng. Her other sons had wives ; but this 
was her only daughter. 

In the night Chrissie heard herself called, and sprang 
out of bed. 

“ I can’t get my breath, dear,” said grandmother with 
a gasp. “ There is such a stitch in my side ! I’m sorry ; 
but I think you had better wake up mother.” 

Bessie was summoned. There were hot applications 
and soothing drinks ; but by dawn the fever was high, 
and the doctor came in to prescribe. 

They did not think of positive danger at first. People 


34 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


had pleurisy, and recovered. “ But at her time of life,” 
the good doctor said one morning with a grave shake of 
the head. 

They sent word to Robert and his wife. Mrs. Robert 
came over to spend the day, bringing some lovely hot- 
house flowers and grapes. She really knew nothing about 
sickness, and was so nervous. When Mr. Dinsmore waa 
ill, they would not even let her stay in the room. And 
wouldn’t it be better to have a professional nurse ? — she 
always did when any thing ailed the children. 

Robert came in the evening, and very kindly hoped that 
mother would soon get about. If she could come to them 
for change of air — Sophia would take her driving in the 
park, and do her best. 

‘‘Mother” smiled gratefully. With all her state and 
style, Mrs. Robert was always most courteous to old Mrs. 
Durant. 

Hetty was up every day or two with some new remedy 
that had almost raised the dead. Grandmother couldn’t 
have taken the cold at her house, she was sure. She had 
done just every thing for her comfort. 

The matter became serious. 

“Bessie,” she began with a very important face, 
“ Frank and I have been talking about business, and he 
thinks just as I do ; and I said I’d run up and ask you if 
grandmother had made a will. Everybody’s been so much 
more fortunate than Frank, and his health is so poor, 
that I do think he ought to have a little more than — well, 
James, at least, who is rolling in wealth, and Robert’s 
wife dressing like a queen. Joseph might speak of it: 
he could advise, and she would listen to him.” 

Bessie stood grave and shocked, the tears gathering in 
her eyes. Not a thought of grandmother’s money had 
crossed her mind. It was so exceedingly bitter to lose 
the friend, counsellor, the more than mother. 

“ Now, don’t you really think it ought to be done? A 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


35 


few hundred dollars would be so much to us ! and the 
others would hardly miss it. Frank’s as deserving, I’m 
sure.” 

“But it would seem — I am afraid — oh, how gladly 
I would keep her, if she had not a penny ! ” 

“ But you see,” said the persistent Hetty, “ that she’s 
spent most of her interest-money in your family. It isn’t 
really as if you’d taken care of her for nothing. I’ve 
said to Frank that it wouldn’t be more than fair if she 
boarded with us part of the time ” — 

“ Oh, don’t ! I can’t bear it ! ” cried Bessie in a tone 
that awed and surprised the obtuse woman. 

She did speak to Joe in a sort of shame-faced, terror- 
stricken way, merely to clear her conscience toward 
Hetty. 

“ I don’t know but it would be right,” said Joseph 
gravely. “ Frank has been unfortunate, and his health 
IS poor. Still it doesn’t seem to me that mother is quite 
right in her mind, and I should not like to dictate. Then 
Frank and Hetty have no children to be anxious about.” 

So it was announced at the funeral that grandmother 
had made no will, and the property would be evenly 
divided. 

“ It’s just a mean shame ! ” declared Hetty to her hus- 
band, after they had returned home. “ Joseph could 
have persuaded grandmother into any thing. She didn’t 
spend much upon her own clothes, and she ought to have 
saved at least a hundred dollars a year out of her interest- 
money.” 

“ But you forget that she gave me a hundred and fifty 
the year I was sick, and she’s made us little presents now 
and then. She had the railing put round the lot when 
they turned it into a cemeter}", and paid for the monu- 
ment ; and then, too, she let me have the money at six per 
cent.” 

“ Well, Joe didn’t pay but six per cent either: I dare- 


36 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


say he’s much richer than you think for. Bessie’s mourn- 
ing is very handsome, more expensive than / could afford. 
I do wonder if she’ll put that troop of girls in mourn- 
ing.” 

James wrote immediately in answer to the sad tidings, 
— a very decorous letter, with an inquiry at the close 
concerning the money. Just now he was about to under- 
take some silver mining, and every little would help. 
There really was no use to wait a year before settling, as 
they all knew there were no debts. 

Robert, too, displayed no little interest. Joseph made 
a statement. There were two thousand in his business, 
two thousand in Frank’s, and about thi’ee hundred in the 
bank. 

They had found rolled in separate parcels in grand- 
mother’s bureau-drawer the sum of three hundred dollars. 
On one was pinned, “ To buy a watch for my dear 
Chrissie when she is seventeen ; ” another for Theodora ; 
and a third for Ardella. Bessie kissed and cried over 
them ; and both concluded it would be wisest to carry out 
grandmother’s designs quietly. 

So each son received his portion. But Hetty suggested 
that the things — bed-clothes and furniture — be divided 
as well. 

“ I should think so much of some old-fashioned articles 
that had been hers ! — just for a remembrance, you know. 
And there used to be some real valuable silver.” 

“ She gave that to Joseph when she broke up house- 
keeping,” said Bessie. “ It is to go to our eldest^irl.” 

“ And a good setting out it will be for Chris. I think 
I’d like to have that great mahogany bureau. Your 
house is so full of new-fashioned furniture, that I dare- 
say you’ll be glad to get rid of it.” 

“ No,” answered Bessie tremulously. “ I’d be willing 
to give you more than it is worth ; but I couldn’t part with 
that. I have been used to seeing it in mother’s room ever 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


37 


since the day she brought me home from my own mother’s 
grave. She gave me one of the little drawers to comfort 
me then, and I have kept trinkets and laces in it. To 
me it will always have the scent of rose-leaves and sweet- 
clover.” 

Then poor foolish Bessie sat down and cried as if her 
heart would break. 

However, she sent Hetty some blankets, a pair of home- 
spun linen sheets, and grandmother’s second-best black 
silk dress. She had been buried in her best, with a white 
lace kerchief crossed on her bosom as she always wore it 
in life. 

“ Though I don’t really beheve Bessie would have 
given me any thing, if I had not spoken,” was Hetty’s 
comment to her husband. “ And there’s really no know- 
ing what she’s kept. ’Tisn’t as if she was an own daugh- 
ter ; and I say one son’s wife has just as good right as 
another. Bessie’s no nearer relation than I.” 

“ Don’t let me hear another word about it, Hetty!” 
said her husband sharply. ‘‘ She was a tender mother to 
all of us, and beholden to none of her children. But Joe 
and Bessie have been very good to her.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ How low soever tlie matter, I hope in God for high words.** 

Love’s Labor Lost. 

The house seemed so strange after grandmother died ! 
I had never known any life without her. Always she had 
been a sweet, lovely old lady, with a prim little cap, and 
a fragrance of rose-leaves about her. She and mamma 
were just like real mother and daughter. I don’t believe 
they ever had a hard thought. 

We used to think if she had not made that last visit to 
aunt Hetty’s — but she had lived to a ripe old age ; and, 
sooner or later, death must come. 

This happened in the fall. At Christmas, Archie was 
nineteen. Papa brought home a new deed of the house, 
made out in mamma’s name. 

“Now, whatever happens, we will have a home over 
our heads,” said he. “ I am owing no business-debts 
that this will interfere with, and I feel it to be my duty.” 

In the spring we made quite a change. Grandma’s 
room had been the second floor front, with the pretty bay- 
window. Mamma furnished it for Theo and I, — a light 
ingrain carpet, a neat cottage set, some white curtains, 
and sundry ornaments we girls were so fond of making. 
Della had the hall bedroom that opened into ours. 

“ It will be pleasant for you girls to be together,” said 
mother. 

The middle room was taken as a guest-chamber. 
Mother’s room, which had once been very large, but was 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


39 


now divided with the bath-room, received the quaint old 
furniture, and kept a pleasant remembrance of grand- 
mother. 

Down stairs we had a parlor par excellence, a sitting 
and sewing room, with a book-case, in which was stored 
the collection of years. Then a bright, cheerful dining- 
room, and the tidiest of kitchens. Father had improved 
the house a good deal ; but it was cosey and comfortable, 
rather than stylish. We were not at all rich, and lived 
quite simply, not even keeping any help, except having a 
washer-woman. I used to look at other people sometimes, 
and wonder why we had to be so economical. I am afraid 
I quite coveted elegance. I was in my last year at the 
high school, and meant to be a teacher. Theo and I had 
nice times planning what I would do when I had money 
of my very own. 

This spring Mr. Travis, father's partner, died quite 
suddenly. The eldest son took the business, and was 
made one of the executors. He had been in the store off 
and on ; was about thirty, and married to a very gay and 
styhsh woman. 

This brought a great deal of perplexity to father. 

“ If I was in better circumstances, I should buy out 
young Travis, and pay the debts at my leisure. I don’t 
fancy having him for a partner. Or if he would buy my 
share. But he asks much more than the business is 
worth,” said father. 

Young Travis, as everybody called him, wanted to 
bring in some changes, — cheap, showy articles, instead 
of the excellent furniture on which his father had built up 
a reputation. He talked largely, and drove around in his 
carriage, leaving the real work to father. 

I was studying very hard. How we girls used to talk 
over our life-plans ! We had some geniuses in our class ; 
for 3"Oung women were now aspiring to every thing. Two 
had resolved to study medicine ; one was going to enter 


40 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Cooper Institute for a course of art and designing. Ade- 
lia Vincent, who had a really beautiful voice, meant, 
some way, to get abroad for a musical education, and dis- 
tinguish herself in opera. Then we had several lilies of 
the field, or of the conservatory rather, and a sprinkling 
of common-place girls. 

I wasn’t a bit of a genius, and not much of a beauty ; 
just about average size, rather slim, with fair complexion, 
blue-gray eyes, and light hair, — nothing, you see, to 
distinguish me from the hundred and one tolerably well- 
looking girls when they have the charm of 3"outh and 
health, and the radiance of hope. 

Mother had alwa^'s said that we girls should know 
enough of one particular branch to get our living if we 
had to depend upon ourselves. Teaching was my fancy. 

“ When you have taught ten or fifteen j^ears, you will 
not be quite so enthusiastic,” said Miss Gumming of the 
B class. “It loses its romance after a while, like all 
other things.” 

Why, it seemed to me, that, in ten j^ears, I could save 
enough to be independent all the rest of my da3"s — if I 
did not marry. I did not mean to hold m^^self too cheap 
in the matrimonial market. Like Lady Geraldine, m3" 
possible lover must be “very noble certes.” At seven- 
teen youth appears boundless, seven and twenty seems 
ver3^ far off, and seven and thirty old age. 

One June evening, a number of 3^oung ladies went to 
Trevor Hall in attire that was absolutel3" bridal, enter- 
tained an appreciative audience for two hours, and re- 
ceived diplomas, with much good advice, that I suppose 
they hardly thought of afterward. Miss Christabel Durant 
had one of the prize essa3"s, and was made happy b3" an 
elegant copy of Shakspeare, and innumerable bouquets. 
It was a very proud and happ3" night. 

After that, I had some delightful countr3" jaunts. Ar- 
chie took me to Cape Ma3^ for a few days, and with father, 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


41 


mother, and Theo, we made a brief stay at Long Branch ; 
though it had not arrived at its present importance. 

I had made my application for a position, and was de- 
lighted to find myself appointed so speedily, — a primary 
school, to be sure ; but I was fond of small children, 
though I might have been equally pleased to air my supe- 
rior knowledge. 

I began on the 1st of September. The principal. Miss 
Willis, had been one of my own teachers ; and now she 
was very kind. In the course of a week I had adapted 
myself to my new duties, and began to feel quite experi- 
enced. “You have the gift of teaching,’* said Miss 
Willis. 

The last of the month, father came home one day with 
a hard chill, that was succeeded by a high fever. The 
next morning he could not rise ; and for several days 
mamma watched him with much anxiety. His health, up 
to this time, had been uniformly good. Dr. Sheldon 
looked very grave, and at length admitted that it was 
typhoid-fever, and a severe case. Indeed, now he grew 
rapidly delirious. 

“You must have an experienced nurse,” said the good 
doctor. 

Forthwith a nurse was installed; and it was a great 
comfort to mamma. 

There were two terrible weeks. We scarcely ate or 
slept, and glanced at each other with tearful, questioning 
eyes. If papa could only have his reason, and recognize 
us all once more ! How we prayed ! how we waited ! but 
dared not hope. It was so different from grandmother’s 
peaceful illness ! 

I remember, as if it were only j^esterday, how mamma 
came down to the breakfast-table one morning with a kind 
of glorified look in her face. 

“ Children,” she began, with a thrill of tremulous joy 
in her tone, “ we think the worst has passed. The fever 


42 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


changed last night, and all the sjanptoms are better. 
Nurse feels very confident. I shall wait until the doctor 
comes, before I really hope ; but I wanted Archie and 
Chrissie to have this gleam of comfoii; to lighten their 
hearts.** 

We all rushed to her, and cried ; and Theo*s nice break- 
fast was scarcel}^ touched. 

The good news proved true. Papa was very weak; 
and at first we could only go in the room and kiss him ; 
but, by degrees, he was allowed to talk, and eat tidbits ; 
and, one happy day, he walked down stairs. But it was 
December before he was able to go to business, and then 
he was met by new perplexities. 

In the hands of young Travis, business had gone wildly 
enough. Papa resolved to end the partnership. He went 
over the business with a careful and impartial arbitrator, 
and offered to buy or sell, though he preferred selling. 
Business was dreadfully depressed. The cloud of our civil 
war was looming up ; and men*s hearts began to quake for 
fear. 

At first Mr. Travis talked largely. He meant to buy 
out, and conduct the business in a different manner. 
“ You see,** he explained to his friends, “ we younger 
men are revolutionizing the modes of doing business. 
These slow, old-fogyish ways did well enough fifty years 
ago ; but they*re out of date. There must be some push 
and vim in a man if he means to succeed.** 

The bargain was almost concluded, when the new part- 
ner reconsidered and declined. Mr. Travis could not 
raise sufficient money. Finally, he agreed to sell out ; 
and then he was in a hurry to settle up the estate. So 
it was resolved, at length, that the half-share papa owned 
in the warehouse should be turned into stock. The build- 
ings were put up at auction, and went very reasonably. 

“I might have bid them in,” said papa ; ‘‘but I did 
not see my way clear ; and the rent will not amount to 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


43 


any more than interest, taxes, and insurance. It is the 
best I can do ; but I do it with fear and trembling. There 
is so much cheap furniture manufactured in large quanti- 
ties, and styles are so changeable, that, although it gives 
an appearance of briskness, it leaves you with a great deal 
of old stock on hand that must be sold at a sacrifice. I 
wish I was safely out of it, and in the coal-business with 
Frank.’’ 

Before the matter was settled, the first gun had been 
fired at Fort Sumter. Men did not talk of business, but 
of war ; yet no one thought it would be of very long 
duration. 

To change our thoughts from our own affairs, aunt 
Hetty came in with a wonderful piece of news. Martha, 
her niece, was engaged to be married to one of the Miller 
bo3'S, — son of old David Miller, who owned no end of 
property down at the Point. This was Stephen, aged 
twenty-eight, a sharp, shrewd young man, who had made 
a good sum of money already in the produce-business. 
Martha had been working at the Miller’s. There were 
three or four girls ; and Steve had taken such a fanc}^ to 
her ! “ So I just told Martha,” said aunt Hetty, nodding 

emphatically, “ that the best time for a girl to maiTj^ was 
when she had a good offer. And he wants to be married 
in the fall : so, says I, ‘ You “ strike while the iron’s hot,” 
Martha.’ ” 

And now we must come down and be introduced ; for 
aunt Hetty felt as if Martha was a sort of own cousin to 
us. 

I don’t know why ; but Martha Gregg had taken a sort 
of queer fancy to me. It was not reciprocated, I am half 
ashamed to say. Not that I felt myself above Martha ; 
only we had no tastes or thoughts in common. She 
always acted as if she was doing a favor to discuss new 
styles and fashions, “as we made our own dresses;” 
just as if, it seemed to me, she thought her ideas clear 
gain, since we did not have to pay for them. 


44 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


We went, — Archie, Theo, and I. Theo was growing 
into a tall girl, and we were very fond of each other. 

Aunt Hetty had a nice supper, and was extremely im- 
portant. There was one adjective that always described 
aunt Hetty to my mind, — underbred. She had no deli- 
cacy, or true estimation of persons or qualities. If one 
was successful, and could make money, that counted: 
otherwise, he or she had no “ faculty ; ” or others were a 
“ little too nice.” 

Martha was a consciously-elated young woman. I have 
seen girls since who thought, in being engaged, they had 
accomplished the great end of life. Stephen was a rather 
unpolished business-man, with very black eyes and high 
color. He talked bank with Archie ; the prospect of the 
war, which would be settled in six months or so, when 
the Southerners really found that we meant fight. His 
matter-of-fact views and low estimates seemed to jar 
against ArcMe’s finer enthusiasms. 

His brother James dropped in during the evening. He 
was younger and rather better-looking, not being quite 
so pronounced, but equally common-place. Yet he and 
Theo had some gay skirmishing ; and Archie told mother 
that Theo had made a conquest. 

Mamma had been born in the same town with aunt 
Hetty, and was really poorer ; but she possessed that 
indescribable refinement, the grace of adaptation, that 
made her a lady anywhere. I never hesitated to imdte 
any of my girl-friends, no matter how much richer they 
were. Our meals were always prettily served, and the 
cloth was clean. Though we were alwa3"s ga}", talking and 
laughing a good deal, we were not loud or aggressive. 

The Millers came up one evening to call on us ; and 
James asked Theo and me to take a drive. She consented 
at once, as we had no engagement for the next night, and 
there would be a bright moon. 

So we di’ew near vacation. To tell the truth, I was 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


45 


getting quite tired of school routine. Then three 
hundred dollars had melted away in a very unsatisfactory 
manner. All I had to show for it was a black silk dress 
and some pretty lace. To be sure, there was twenty 
dollars for some volumes of poems that would not sliame 
my handsome Shakspeare, and a birthday gift to Theo 
of a fine imported chromo. The rest had gone in little 
things. 

‘‘But so much of life consists of little things,’’ said 
mother, with her winsome, comforting smile. 

Martha came up the very day school closed. She had 
so much to tell me ! They had changed their plans, and 
were to be married the last week in July. Steve had an 
offer to trade his business for some Western land ; and he 
wanted to go out and see if he should like it well enough 
to settle there. Martha hoped not ; but it would make a 
splendid wedding-tour, under one expense. 

“I’m going to have a st3dish wedding in church. I 
don’t want to go home to Medford ; for we shouldn’t have 
half room enough to entertain Stephen’s folks, and it 
would put mother about, beside costing so much. Then 
we can’t have anj" kind of reception at aunt Hetty’s, the 
place is so small. So I’m going to have an elegant silk, 
though I sha’n’t wear it to travel in regularly. And I 
want two bridesmaids. Amelia will be first ; but James 
wants to stand, and he’s teased me to ask 3’ou. Now, 
don’t get up on stilts, and refuse ; for I don’t believe it 
will disgrace 3^011 one bit. And 3’ou needn’t be dressed 
quite like me. Amelia’s dress is to be a handsome fight 
poplin : I bought it last week at Lane & Davis’s, at a 
bargain. She’s to be married in the winter, 3’ou know, 
as soon as George Brown gets his house done ; and he’s 
going to do all the wood- work himself, as he has time. 
She’s set her heart on having a brown silk, and can’t 
afford two. Now, 3’ou could do something like that.” 

“Oh! I don’t know,” I said slowly. The prospect 


46 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


of being bridesmaid was rather tempting, as perhaps it 
always is to eighteen. 

“ Let’s go and talk it over with your mother.” 

She did manage to interest mamma. 

“Aunt Hetty would feel dreadfully slighted if you 
refhsed,” said mother afterward ; “ and the pretty sum- 
mer silk you were talking about will do, I think. I do 
not particularly admire James Miller ; but you will not be 
compelled to marry him,” and mother laughed. 

There was much going back and forth until the thing 
was settled. I bought my silk, and Martha insisted upon 
making it. It was very fine check, and had the appear- 
ance of a soft lavender gray. Then I had a straw hat to 
match, with a plume, and silk trimmings. Martha sent 
me gloves and fiowers. James came for me in a carriage ; 
and somehow I had a queer, awkward feeling, just at the 
last moment. Aunt Hetty and uncle Frank were to ride 
in our carriage, and that would break up the tete-d-tete. 

“Oh, you look so lovely!” cried Theo, kissing me 
rapturously. “ I hope you’ll be married some day, and 
let me be bridesmaid.” 

I must admit that the wedding was very nice. Martha 
was still plump, with a tendency to high color ; but the 
gray and white toned her down. Miss Amelia looked 
very well. The church was fuU ; for the Millers had hosts 
of friends and connections. There was no blunder or 
delay. Martha had thoughtfully ripped her glove-finger, 
and all parties displayed great presence of mind. 

Etiquette was not rigidly observed, for the Miller mere 
and pere kissed their new daughter, and the brothers and 
sisters followed suit. Then we marched out of church, 
were driven to the station, whirled to New York, and said 
good-by to them on the spacious North-river steamer. 
I did env> their going to Niagara. 

“We might as well finish out the spree,” said James 
gayly. “To my mind, this has been a rather dry wed- 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


47 


ding : so I propose we go to a hotel, and have something 
nice. I’ll stand treat.” 

George and Amelia agreed. They talked very freely 
of what they meant to do when they were married. They 
would have a regular house-warming, with a supper and 
dancing, and a little wine to be jolly on. A man seldom 
was married but once in his life ; and he, George, meant 
to have a good time. 

Oddly enough, AmeHa seemed rather vexed, that Mat, 
being youngest, should have married first. 

“ Never you mind,” said George good - humoredly. 
“ You were engaged first, and you’ll have your house all 
ready to your hand, and that’s worth waiting for.” 

We were feasted, and drank to the health of the bride 
and groom in some weak, sweet native wine, finishing up 
with ice-cream. It was quite in the evening when we 
reached home. James responded to my rather languid In- 
vitation by coming in. I was very tired ; but Theo was 
there, bright and fresh ; and they talked the wedding over 
with much animation. 

“I thought your sister the very prettiest girl there. 
Miss Theo ; and something else came into my mind that 
moment,” Mr. Miller was saying, when I sprang up with 
a crimson face, and muttered some excuse about a drink. 

I staid full fifteen minutes ; and, when I came back, he 
was going. 

“Let me see,” said he: “if you are not engaged, I 
think I’U take a stroll up here on Sunday evening. You 
might like to go to church.” 

“ Oh, do ! ” returned Theo, with an enchanting httle 
laugh. 

“ Good-night, Miss Theo. I hope it will come your 
turn to be bridesmaid before long. It’s real joUy. — 
Good-night, my — Miss Chrissie. I hope you’ve had a 
pleasant time, and that a night’s rest will set you all 
straight.” 


48 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Under cover of shaking hands, he pressed mine to his 
lips. He had kissed me once that day, and I had been 
compelled to let it go unnoticed. 

Theo and I went straight up stairs. It was so good to 
pull olf all the finery, and put on a fresh sack while I 
brushed out my hair. 

“ So you did have a real nice time, after all?'’ half 
questioned Theo. 

‘‘ Theo ” — Then I paused, and laughed. 

“ Something so funny came into my mind ! " I explained 
presently. “ You remember Mamie Hendley, that we 
used to laugh about at school? She fancied that she was 
so sensitive, and was always saying, ‘ I know I’m diiferent 
from other girls. I never was formed for the rude jests 
of the vulgar crowd.’ Now, I was just going to ask you 
why we were different from the rank and file, when the 
ridiculousness of the thing fiashed over me. And yet I 
have been experiencing just that all the time. These 
people were good and pleasant. James spent his money 
very freely. He was so in earnest that I should enjoy 
every thing, and he took care of me in a kind, solicitous 
manner ; but I felt annoyed at so many httle things, that 
I was positively ashamed of myself. Mr. Miller is a 
great deal richer than father, and I am not sure but the 
social position of the family is higher than ours. But 
there’s something about them all, from parents to young 
children, that jars on me as if some one had hit a great 
nerve. Am I foolish, or wrong, or what is it? ” 

“ You are all tired out, and you had better go to bed,” 
said Theo sagely. “James Miller is jolly and good- 
natured, but not refined ; and there are a great many just 
such people in the world. It is one of the puzzling 
things.” 

True. At eighteen we cannot solve all the mysteries. 


CHAPTER V. 


“Look here upon this picture, and on this.” 

Hamlet. 

The wedding had been on Wednesday. On Saturday 
I received a letter from a friend in New Haven. Georgie 
Curtis had graduated in the same class as I. Her parents 
had removed the April previous ; and Georgie had gone 
on, boarding, until the close of school. She had visited 
at our house a good deal that spring, and we had kept up 
a correspondence. She had asked me to spend part of 
my vacation with her ; but the matter stood in that un- 
certain way. Now she appointed a day, the following 
Thursday, and wanted to keep me two or three weeks, 
if I could stay. 

We had been sewing very industriousl}^ thus far. With 
Theo and I in school, many matters had to be left foa* 
vacation. Theo was so dainty and tasty. She could 
trim hats equal to a milliner, and had such splendid ideas 
on the subject of furbishing up old dresses ! Mother was 
very “handy,’’ as Medford people used to say; so that 
we seldom hired any sewing done. And now I felt quite 
in order. 

“Capital!” said Archie when he heard of it. “My 
vacation begins on Wednesday, and I am going up to 
Maine. I’ll take you, and spend one night at New 
Haven.” 

So that was settled. 

James Mill er came on Sunday evening, and we went to 


60 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


church. Then, with Theo, we walked up the street in 
the beautiful moonlight. 

“ There’s to be a splendid excursion on Wednesday, to 
Eockaway Beach,” said he suddenly. “ I should so like 
to take you two girls ! Couldn’t you go ? There will be 
a barge for dancing, and a real nice company.” 

“ I am going away on Thursday,” I said, glad that it 
was so. “I am much obliged ; but I shall be too much 
engaged to leave home on that day.” 

‘ ‘ Going awa}'^ ! Where ? ’ ’ The surprise and blank- 
ness of his tone kept it from being rude. 

“ To New Haven. To spend a fortnight.” 

“ Oh, I’m so sorry ! ” 

“ But I shall have a nice time,” in a gay tone. 

‘‘ I dare say. Yet I wish you were not going. It is 
selfish, isn’t it? You won’t stay more than a fortnight? ” 

“ I am not quite sure,” rather dubiously. 

What was this strange feeling about James Miller? 
Other young men had taken me to church, lectures, parties, 
though as 3'et I had had no regular lover. I knew by a 
species of womanly intuition that he was caring about me 
in a different way, and I felt worried. Martha’s marriage 
had annoj^ed me all through, from the lack of delicacy 
and romance. Yet how many business-like, common- 
place marriages there were in the world ! How many 
girls would be glad of an opportunity to unite their des- 
tinies with the Miller family ! I knew I could have this 
chance. Should I thrust it one side before it took definite 
shape? James was better-looking than Stephen. He 
had a pleasant ideal of a home, and a woman would be 
veiy comfortable in it; and be loved in his good, rough, 
hearty fashion. 

I was glad to find mother and Archie in the pailor on 
our return. There was no chance for a tke-a-tHe, But, 
when he was going away, I went out to the hall-door. 

“ I’m so sorry to have you go just now ! I had planned 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


61 


SO many nice things ! And you may count on one friend 
who will be glad to get you back. Good-by till then.’' 

He stooped suddenly, and, before I could prevent, had 
kissed me. I bit my lip with pain and anger. I did not 
like being taken possession of, whether I would or not. 
Unless he was to be my lover, he had no right, and none 
anyhow, until I gave it. Yet I could not quite decide the 
matter. Perhaps no young girl can at once dismiss a 
man’s regard from her mind, unless there is something 
positively distasteful in it. This only had the crime of 
being intensely common-place. 

Archie and I reached New Haven safely; and Miss 
Georgie came to escort us home, — a pretty bowery nest 
a little in the suburbs, with a great roomy porch, and 
lovely flower-garden. Mrs. Curtis was sweet and cordial. 
She had been a widow ; and her daughter by her flrst 
marriage, Mrs. Danforth, was Imng at home, with her 
two babies, perfect cherubs. Mr. Danforth was a profess- 
or of chemistry, a fine-looking, scholarly man, of whom I 
felt a little afraid at first. Georgie had two younger 
brothers. 

Archie said good-by, and was off. We settled ourselves 
to a most delightful course of visiting. There were rides 
and walks, and going to the salt water, beside a three- 
days’ excursion in a yacht. Then there was a visit to 
be made in the country at grandmother’s ; and altogether 
I spent three charming weeks. 

I came to like Mr. Danforth so much ! He was the 
embodiment of refinement and manliness, the most de- 
voted of husbands, the tenderest of fathers, with a large, 
generous mind, and the charm of being very entertaining. 
He did not unbend simply because you were a young girl ; 
rather he seemed to reach out his hand and draw 3^ou up 
to his level. I think now that it unwittingly tinctured all 
my life to meet this man, who gave me a larger insight 
into what men might be. If Heaven had in store for me 
any such, how patientlv I would wait ! 


52 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


But, as an offset, here was Georgie with a lover, — a 
pretty pink-and-white young man, good-humored, common- 
place, with a certain society polish, a nice tenor voice, 
and a bright way that affected wit. How could she com- 
pare the two, and be content? 

There was about her the sweet shyness, the delicate 
delight of love, that attested its sincerity and truth, and 
gave promise of a delicious blossoming. Mr. and Mrs. 
Danforth seemed to accept the young man cordially. 

It appeared to me that Georgie really was much my 
superior, — a fine musician, a decided genius for sketching, 
and a gift for poetry that I really envied. Some very 
pretty verses had found their way into print, and been 
actually remunerated, though I think she wrote them 
because she liked it, not for either fame or money. So 
her ideal of life would end in this ! Was I too exigeant^ 

I came home much refreshed to take up my small 
burthen of life. But a surprise and sorrow met me on 
the very threshold. 

The war was now assuming a serious aspect. Our 
reverses had fired the national heart, and given us an 
insight into the temper of our adversaries. Our brave 
boy Archie felt called to go. I cannot repeat our argu- 
ments, for my heart is still sore : yet some one’s sons and 
brothers had to go ; and why not ours ? 

Martha and her husband had returned. He had sold 
his farm, and made a little money, and, after some consid- 
eration, resolved to go into business with uncle Frank. 
He purchased a house, and aunt Hetty took the second 
floor ; both parties keeping house separately. Martha had 
so little work to do, that she took in some dress-making. 
The Millers were wonderfully pleased with Stephen’s 
smart wife. Martha said, with an emphatic toss of the 
head, “ that they meant to be rich folks before they died.” 
How odd it was, that she never seemed to think sickness 
or misfortune might overtake them ! 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


53 


James Miller called a few days before I came home, 
and seemed quite disappointed, Theo thought. Martha 
gave a tea-party, but I did not go: we were too full 
of sorrow for Archie. He did not come again, and I 
wondered a little. Was I glad, or sorry? 

Well, perhaps no woman likes to feel that a man’s 
preference for her is so short-lived. Still I felt that it 
was best. I could not marry him, surely. 

Archie was not killed in his first battle, and we took 
heart. I had been promoted, too, and received fifty dol- 
lars more salary. Business was dreadfully dull, except in 
army equipments. Papa was very much worried, as he 
had some heavy notes to pay. 

“We must manage just as closely as we can,” said 
mamma. “ There used to be a little coming from Archie ; 
but we must do without that now, and send him a few 
comforts, the pay of a private is such a very little ! ” 

One night late in October I went to Martha’s to meet 
a few friends, her sister being one. James came in to 
tea. He was quite distant at first. Was there a spice of 
latent coquetry in me ? I wondered if I could bring him 
back. 

However, aunt Hetty seemed determined to make us 
cordial. There was no Archie to escort me ; so, when I 
rose to go, Mr. Miller proflered his services. 

“ If you will just put me in the car,” I said, “ I shall 
be obhged. I could not think of taking you on such a 
long, needless journey.” 

“ I suppose you had a very nice time last summer,” he 
said quite coldly as we walked along, “you staid such 
a while.” 

“ It was delightful.” 

There was an awkward pause, and then my car came 
along : so I expressed my obligation pohtely. 

“ I hope I shall see you some time again,” he ventured 
to say. 


54 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ I am not going to run away,” I returned laughingly. 
“ I don’t have any more hohdays until Christmas.” 

I had salved my conscience. I had not asked him to visit 
me ; and, if he did come, it would he at his own peril. I 
think I liked him the better for not being too obtusely blind. 

A week later I received a note from him. There was 
to be a concert at Trevor Hall with a celebrated singer, 
and he had two tickets with reserved seats. If I could 
not go, would I reply accordingly? but, if I could, he 
would call for me without further trouble. 

I wanted to hear Madame L so much ! Could I 

say no ? Other girls went out with gentlemen whom the}' 
did not marry. How could I be sure that he meant such 
a conclusion? Was it not rather bold in me to imagine it ? 

I did not answer. Mr. MiUer called quite early, and we 
went to the concert. It was enchanting. The next week 
Wendell Phillips was to lecture. Would I not like to hear 
him? 

That tempted me, and I yielded again. Coming homo, 
he spoke of a time I had passed him in the street and cut 
him, shortly after my return from New Haven. Did I 
really mean — 

“ I did not see you, I am sure,” I cried quickly. I 
would not have been so rude. But we were all wild about 
my brother Archie just then.” 

“ Well, I’m glad it wasn’t meant. I don’t see why ” — 
But he left the sentence unfinished. 

We took up friendly relations. There were other callers 
and other invitations. I tried to keep him from any special 
intimacy until I was quite sure, I said to my conscience. 

I came home from school one day, and was hurrying up 
to my room with some Christmas gifts I wanted to finish, 
when I met mother, and was startled by her anxious face. 

“ Oh ! what is the matter? ” I cried. 

“ Father came home with a hard chill an hour ago,” 
she answered, “ and he looks just as he did before the 
fever. I have sent for the doctor.” 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


55 


“ Oh, it can’t be the fever again! ” I exclaimed in a 
tone that I meant to make hopeful, but failed. 

Dr. Sheldon came, but shook his head gravely. He 
would do his best. Papa kept in bed two days, and was 
much better, then went down town two hours to attend to 
some important business, and before the next morning 
was dehrious. 

We took counsel together. We knew of a strong, good- 
hearted woman whose husband had gone to war. She 
had been trying a service place ; but the lady could not 
afford to keep her. 

“ I think we’ll send for Katy Linn,” said mother, “ and 
keep her one or two months. It will be much cheaper 
than a nurse, and relieve me more. If any thing else is 
needed, Theo must stay at home.” 

It was a long siege ; but we managed. The fever was 
not so bad, more of a bilious type ; but there was all the long 
convalescence when business worried him so much. The 
book-keeper used to come up for instructions. There had 
been a bad failure in New York ; and two notes that papa 
had used, given in the way of regular payment, came back 
to him. He could not endure their going to protest. 

“ If I only could get tided over for a while : I can’t 
bear to think of losing every thing.” 

He went down to see uncle Robert one day, and laid 
the matter before him. 

Uncle Robert was very sorry ; but he was likely to get a 
government contract, and he should want all his ready 
money. Times were so hard ! no one knew just what was 
before him ; and if we should not be successful, or if, in the 
end, the North should be beaten, as was just as likely ” — 

“ It never will be,” answered papa proudly. 

“ It hurts me,” he said afterward, “ to hear men who 
are making fortunes out of the country’s necessities talk 
as Robert does.” 

“ The only thing I see is to raise some money on the 
house,” said mamma. 


56 


FROM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


“The house is yours, Bessie; and I feel as if mother 
really helped us to buy it. It would be so good to have a 
home over our heads if we had nothing else. I can’t bear 
to risk it. I would give up business ; but there is so littl< 
doing in any line. If one could onl}" tell what was best.” 

“ It does seem to me that this is the best way,” re- 
turned mamma bravely. “ Let us help ourselves as long 
as we can.” 

She went to a savings institution, and raised two thou- 
sand dollars on a mortgage for a year. Business was 
straightened up a little, and we all felt encouraged. 

But the spring trade was nothing, and living was get- 
ting quite expensive. A year of war had brought about 
no results, except to show us it must be a life-and-death 
struggle, — a country, or ruin. 

Meanwhile my own experiences had been going on. 
Theo and I were asked to take part in an amateur dra- 
matic entertainment for the benefit of the widows and or- 
phans of one of our regiments that had suffered severely. 
It was to take place on the 2 2d of February. There were 
to be two pretty little comedies, and some elegant ta- 
bleaux. 

The second evening of our practising I was introduced 
to Horace Sargent. He was a 3"oung lawj^er who had 
recently" come to Northwood, and was junior partner in 
the old firm of Sargent & Fanning. Old Mr. Sargent, 
one of our leading law3'ers, and a man who had held sev- 
eral high political and judicial positions, was a cousin of 
his father. 

A fine-looking man of eight and twent3% perhaps, who 
reminded me wonderfully of Mr. Danforth. He was a fin- 
ished reader and a most excellent Shaksperian scholar, as 
I afterward learned, and in no wise conceited or pedantic. 
We had some merry passages that evening, and felt 
strangely well acquainted when we separated. 

We talk a good deal of the intuitive sense that warns ug 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


67 


of danger, or presages future delights ; yet, after all, ho’^f 
futile the occult judgment really is ! It may be very dam 
gerous, yet with no word or look or misgiving to rouse, 
until it has done its fatal work ; or it may be excellent, 
perhaps the very influence we need, yet possess some 
curious repellant force. We like what suits us ; and 
though it may be better not to like, to hold aloof, how can 
one always judge rightly ? 

Between us there was an instant sympathy. His soft, 
mellow laugh roused within me the puzzling, indistinct 
memory of something heard in another phase of existence, 
as we say. 

We were all gay and bright with the badinage and 
laughter that youth loves. I look back now, and think 
how sweet youth is. No wonder poets never weary of 
singing its praises ; but, ah ! how carelessly we cast those 
golden days behind us ! 

I had part in the comedy: I was considered to have 
quite a gift that wa}". Theo stood in some tableaux. I 
must describe her to you, now that she has come to the 
estate of young ladyhood, — this same bright, bewildering, 
seductive 3’outh. The Duchess of Abrantes, writing of 
the Empress Josephine, said she was that most beautiful 
height in woman, — one inch over flve feet. It may be 
for a French woman ; but we thought Theo rather petite. 
A slender, lithe figure, lovely shoulders, and beautifull}^- 
rounded arms, with the softest and whitest of hands, and 
a peculiar magnetic touch. Her hair was very dark, but 
not black : dusky just expresses it. It lay in gi’eat waves 
on her forehead ; not the small prettiness of regularly curly 
hair, but a luxuriousness that was of the Oriental t^q^e. 
Her e^'es were changeable, sometimes of a deep blue, at 
others a pure dark gray ; and, when she was vexed or very 
happ}', the dusk}’ look came in them that made them match 
her hair. Her complexion had a cream}’ tint, with a sort 
of peach-bloom, that came and went most bewitchingly, 


68 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


and kept you watching it. A proud nose, inclining to 
aquiline ; a broad, dimpled chin ; and a tempting dimple 
in one cheek. Certainly at sixteen she was very pretty, 
if not absolutely beautiful. 

She was a rather queer, uncanny girl, full of sententious 
bits of wisdom, and moods of exuberant gayety; and 
drew people to her with a curious magnetic charm that I 
never fully understood. “ Love begets love,” saith the 
proverb ; but while dogs always terrified her, yet, if she 
spoke to one, he would put his nose in her hand, or follow 
her, if in the street. It was the same with individuals. Theo 
attracted people whom she could not like in return ; not 
from any coquetry or desire of power, but as if she en- 
chanted them, whether she would or not. Yet she had an 
affectionate nature, with a tint of something like sharp- 
ness ; a mellow-flavored irony that could have cut if she 
had not been generous of soul. She possessed the dan- 
gerous attractiveness of a born flirt. In childhood Theo’s 
beaux had proved a source of amusement to us. Great 
awkward boys, touched by the something in her manner, 
blundered into love, and then were nursed gently out of it. 
They brought her flowers, worked her book-marks, made 
her rings ; and one lame little chap carved her a necklace 
out of cherry-stones, that was really a work of art. She 
was never elated with her small victories, and had none 
of the sense of triumph that generally goes with a co- 
quettish nature. 

She was pretty busy, and for some reason only attended 
the last rehearsal, when Mr. Sargent saw her for the first 
time. 

“ He will go down to Theo,” I commented mentally, 
with a curious pang. 


CHAPTER VI. 


-4rm. —And hast thou purchased this experience ? 

Moth. — By my penny of observation. — Love’s Labob Lost. 

The entertainment was a complete success. The house 
iv^as packed ; the audience good-natured and appreciative. 
Theo looked exquisitely lovely, and was rapturously en- 
cored. Bouquets were showered upon us ; and for ama- 
teurs I think we did do our work very well. 

We went to the dressing-room at length, and disrobed, 
amid snatches of talk and shrieks of laughter, everybody 
getting hold of the wrong articles ; but after a while we 
were clothed, whether in our right minds or not. 

Some of the more favored were admitted behind the 
scenes after the plaj^ was ended. I saw James Miller 
striding over bundles and baskets containing stage-attire. 
He had been very good in forwarding our project, and sold 
quantities of tickets. 

“ I wonder if I may have the pleasure of escorting you 
two ladies home?” asked Mr. Sargent, with the gentlest 
touch on my arm. 

I flushed with annoyance to think that James Miller 
must be the favored one, and said with imprudent frank- 
ness, that I was sorry to be engaged, then glanced at 
Theo. 

“Is your sister bound by the same bond?” and a 
smiled crossed his face. “Miss Theo — may I say it? 
It is such a pretty, half-bo3dsh name, and suits you ex- 
actly.” 


60 


FEOM ELA.ND TO MOUTH. 


“ I don’t know that you would feel repaid for your 
trouble,” said Theo honestly, — “ unless, Chris, could we 
walk? Although I suppose we are tired.” 

“ How would you go home otherwise?” he asked with 
a little polite wonder. 

She laughed gayly. 

“ Why, in a horse-car. We live rather in the suburbs. 
And, if matrimony is defined as an insane desire on the 
part of a man to pay some young woman’s board-bill, 
might not this be construed into a similar desire to pay 
car-fare, when there are so many of us going one way? 
Is that, too very rude, Mr. Sargent? ” 

“ I understand it as a desire to save me some trouble 
and — car-fare,” he answered, with a merry twinkle in 
his eyes. 

“ And a lonesome ride back at the witching hour when 
graveyards yawn ; and you have to pass two of them on 
the way. I should like to walk if we were not too tired ; 
but we are.” 

Mr. Miller joined us. Ever}' body was talking in those 
mixed, broken, disjointed sentences that sound so irre- 
sistibly funny when heard from a crowd of eager tongues. 
At last we gathered up our parcels, and made our way out 
to the street. 

“ I really felt afraid we never should get out,” said my 
admirer. “ I do think women can make the longest good- 
bys. You’ve missed that car : it went five minutes ago. 
Will you go down to Russell’s and wait, and have a 
stew? Here, Theo!” 

“Much obliged, all the same,” returned Theo with a 
droll little laugh, turning to her escort. 

The moon was just coming up. It was a bright, cold 
night, and the fresh air was reviving. Quite a party de- 
cided to go to Russell’s ; and we had a full haif-hour on 
our hands. 

The talk began again, — how well it all went oflfl How 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


61 


crowded the house was ! There would be at least five 
hundred dollars, after expenses were paid. 

“Miss Theo,” said some one, leaning over, “you 
were the star of the evening. I never did see any thing 
so beautiful as that statue. Poor Pygmalion ! — I don’t 
wonder he lost his heart.” 

How pretty Theo looked now in her becoming black 
velvet Scotch cap, with a bit of scarlet in it ! She took 
her compliments charmingly. Mr. Sargent watched her 
with a curious interest. 

Mr. Miller appropriated me in a manner that I did not 
enjoy. I had been liking him quite well ; but he seemed 
loud and ill-bred. Mr. Sargent was so different, — the 
gentle inclination of his head when he listened, the trained 
voice, the clear, polished pronunciation, the little com- 
ments made with discrimination, in fact, the many small 
things that go to make up a gentleman even in the ordi- 
nary events of life. 

The car-bell tinkled, and we all sprang up. Mr. Millei 
pushed his way out, entered the car, seated me and him- 
self. Mr. Sargent seated Theo, then several other ladies, 
and stood up for a few squares. But one party left, and 
there was a vacancy on our side ; Theo moved, and that 
brought him between us. 

“ I am thinking seriously of joining your dramatic club, 
Miss Durant,” he said, turning to me. “ I am quite a 
stranger in the city, and happen to be extremely fond of 
such pursuits. I suppose I shall seem quite a veteran to 
you young people ; but if I promise to prove no real 
detriment ” — 

“ O Mr. Sargent, we shall be glad to have you, I am 
sure ! ” I cried eagerly. 

“ I wonder if they wouldn’t take me,” said Mr. 
Miller, leaning quite over me. “I have a mind to try my 
hand at it.” 

“ There is a good deal of drudgery and dissatisfaction 
in the beginning,” I answered coldly. 


62 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ I belonged to a Shakspeare Club for several years, 
Mr. Sargent continued. “ Are you fond of plays — act- 
ing, I mean? ” 

“ I hardly know, I have seen so little,’’ I said hesitat- 
ingly ; but Mr. Miller broke in with, — 

“I can’t say that I enjoy this high tragedy, where all 
stab and everybody dies. Now they talk so much about 
Booth ! I went to see Hamlet, and I thought the lot of 
them cracked. That girl with the hair hanging about her 
shoulders, tr3dng to sing — now who was she ” — 

“ Ophelia,” suggested Mr. Sargent. 

“Oh, yes ! But she wasn’t half as good as Miss Ophe- 
lia in ‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’ Now, there’s a play that has 
something to it. You laugh and you cry, and you feel in 
the end as if you had the worth of your money.” 

I dare say my annoyance was plainly visible in my face. 
I could have cried with mortification. But oh the grace 
with which Mr. Sargent took him off my hands, and talked 
to his capacity ! At length the car stopped. I was 
tucked under Mr. Miller’s arm quite as if I belonged to 
him. 

“ I won’t insult you by asking you in at this time of 
night,” I said gayly. “ But when you have nothing 
better on hand, Mr. Sargent, we shall be glad to listen to 
a little Shaksperian reading, if you will be so good to us.” 

“ Thank you. I shall take an early opportunity to paj 
my respects.” 

“Very well done!” laughed Theo as we entered the 
hall, turned out the gas, and marched straight to our 
own room. 

“ I certainly did not mean that Mr. Miller should haVC 
an excuse to come in.” 

“ Chris,” said Theo as I stood before the glass, putting 
a wisp of hair in crimping-pins (my hair was a soft light 
brown, straight as a stick, except when assisted by art), 
— “ Chris, do you know what James Miller means? ” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


63 


I colored violently. Yes, I did know what he meant, 
although I sometimes persuaded myself that it might only 
be a suggestion of vanity. 

“ O Chris ! could you marry him? He acted to-night 
quite as if you were engaged.” 

I turned around. “ No, Theo,” I replied honestly, “ I 
don’t believe I could. He is good, and in many ways 
generous, and would love a woman ever so much ; but 
somehow ” — 

“ Aunt Hetty would say, ‘ Has something of his own, 
and will make a rich man.’ She was talking about it a 
day or two ago, and wanted mother to — well, at least to 
advise you to marry him. But if I didn’t mean to ” — 

“ Theo, I’ll tell you how it is ; ” and I sat down on the 
edge of the bed. “ It would be what the greater part of 
the world would call a good marriage for me. Father is 
not very rich, nor are we high up in social position ; and 
I am a school-teacher, not from any grand and holy pur- 
pose, but because I feel the need of earning some money. 
As Mrs. Miller, I should have a nice home and be well 
provided for, dress very handsomely, for that is the one 
thing James is fond of. Then as he prospered he would 
have a finer house and showy furniture ; but a twenty-five 
dollar painting bought at some cheap store in New York 
would be just as good to him as a Church or Gifibrd, and 
a minstrel troupe better than an opera. There is such a 
pecuhar, thick-skinned self-complacency about him ! He 
feels quite as good as anybody else. He wouldn’t care 
to be improved or refined ; and, oh, if he belonged to me, 
how could I endure his talking as he did to Mr. Sargent 
this evening ! I never should be able to bring him up to 
my standard ; and, oh ! I couldn’t go down to Martha’s 
level. I have been trying to like him, and I am afraid 
I’m foohsh and nonsensical and romantic.” 

“ You don’t love him,” Theo said in her cool, clear, de- 
cisive voice ; and I knew then that I never should, even 
if I were his wife half a century. 


64 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ So I would be careftd.*' 

We both laughed there, kissed each other, and tumbled 
into bed as the clock was striking twelve. 

Now, pretty little Theo was quite entitled to discuss 
love-matters, as she had been the heroine of two serious 
affairs of the rather romantic order. One was the son of 
a neighbor. Theo and Alfred Dayton had played to- 
gether, coasted down hill, skated, and been fast friends. 
Mrs. Dayton was a widow, with limited means, two daugh- 
ters considerably older than Alfred, who was a big, clumsy 
boy until sixteen, and then shot up to man’s estate in a 
year or two. He was very spooney on Theo, amusingly 
so to us. His mother had set her heart on his becoming 
a minister, and, when he graduated at the institute, had 
settled upon the theological school he was to enter. He 
l^rotested against this. He wanted to go into business, 
make some money of his own, and marry Theo Durant. 

Mother and sisters were horrified. The Misses Dayton 
were what we, in the flaunting arrogance of our youth, 
termed “ old maids.” 

That little tomboy, Theo Durant ! We knew just how 
they must have held up their hands, and gazed in each 
other’s eyes. Mrs. Dayton flew over to our house, and 
laid the case before mother quite as if Theo had been a 
criminal of the darkest dye. That roused mamma. 

“Mrs. Dayton,” she said, “we certainly cannot help 
what Alfred chooses to confess to you. Theo is a mere 
child, and no such idea has entered her head. Moreover 
I very much object to having any such idea thrust there.” 

But to have poor Alfred broken up in his studies, and 
his life blighted, and all their plans set at nought ; for 
they couldn’t consent to a long engagement. 

Theo had come down stairs with her hat on, ready 
to do an errand for mamma. She paused at the sound of 
the angry voice, then walked into the room stately as a 
queen, her head erect, her eyes black as night. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


65 


“ Mrs. Dayton,’’ she began, to mamma’s utter aston- 
ishment, “ I could not help hearing what you said. It 
was about Alfred and me. Will you please let me set 
your heart quite at rest? I like Alfred ever so much, 
just as if he were my brother. To me he seems only an 
overgrown boy, quite one’s equal ; not a man to love and 
respect, and perhaps feel a little afraid of, as I should like 
when I had a real lover. I do not want to marry him ; I 
do not even think I should want to when I am a woman 
of twenty. I don’t desire to spoil his life, nor yours, 
when you love him so. Please tell him for me that I 
shouldn’t ever marry him, and there is no use thinking 
of it.” 

Mrs. Dayton was thunderstruck, mamma said : there 
was no other word to express her surprise. She looked 
at Theo, growing redder and redder in the face. 

“You need not be afraid of Theo after that,” said 
mamma proudly. “ You can trust her.” 

“You can trust me,” returned Theo, “ because, if I did 
love him in that way, I would not be willing to give him 
up for anybody ; and I respect him and you aU too much 
to want to tease you with any make-believe regard. And 
now, mamma, please give me your errands, and I will leave 
you and Mrs. Dayton to finish your talk.” 

Theo went her way royally. Mrs. Dayton was quite 
extinguished. It was one thing to break up a love-affair, 
and refuse to have that tomboy, Theo Durant, thrust into 
your family ; but it was quite another to have it dechned 
by the aforesaid young lady. Alfred insisted upon seeing 
Theo, who was tender and sisterly, but firm. It came to 
be quite a neighborhood talk, to the great mortification of 
the Dajdons. Alfred found himself a place in a real- 
estate office, and was very spunky for a while ; but in the 
fall they persuaded him to consent to their plans. 

Theo’s next serious episode commenced with what might 
have been an accident. She had been spending several 


66 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


days with a school-friend at the house of the latter’s 
grandmother, and the hired boy started to drive them 
home. On the way they were run into, and the wagon 
badly damaged, though neither was hurt. Just then 
another carriage came along, going to North wood ; and 
the two occupants insisted upon taking them home. One 
was a fine-looking, middle-aged man; the other an ex- 
quisite young Frenchman, dressed with the perfection of 
neatness, and with hands and feet small enough for a girl. 

Papa had been out with the wagon, and stopped for 
some supper. He was just going away as they reached 
the door. Theo introduced him, and explained the acci- 
dent. Both gentlemen were strangers in Northwood, and 
going to take the next train for New York. 

About three weeks afterward, the second Sunday we 
were without Archie, we both staid at home in the even- 
ing. Theo’s head ached, and I had been reading. As it 
grew dusk, I closed my book, but did not get a light. 

“ Theo,” I said suddenly, “ I want you to look at that 
gentleman over opposite. He has been walking up and 
down, then disappears long enough to go around the 
square. There ! He has turned : now wait until he comes 
back.” 

She looked earnestly. Then she leaned back in her 
chair, and gave a funny little laugh. 

“ What is the matter, Theo? You haven’t ” — 

“ I haven’t done any thing but to be picked up in the 
middle of a dusty road by two gentlemen, and brought 
home, and forget that something might come of it. That 
is surely my Frenchman ! ” 

“ O Theo ! ” I cried, astonished, and in a little nervous 
flurry. “You don’t suppose — why, what if he should 
caU?” 

“ Such longing, lingering looks portend something 
surely.” 

“ And we two all alone I ” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


67 


“ He won’t eat us up, I am quite sure. It would be too 
funny for any thing.” 

“ To be eaten up? ” 

“ O Chris ! ” and she laughed merrily. 

“ Theo, you are always getting into some — some 
difficulty.” 

“Why, no; only about Alfred Dayton. Why will 
mothers and sisters always imagine that innocent-minded 
young women are forever planning to entrap their dar- 
lings? It is a great relief to me to have him away,” and 
she gave a healthy, vigorous, unsentimental sigh. “ I 
wonder if his mother and sisters will pick out his wife.” 

“ She will have to be a paragon. O Theo ! there he is 
again. Suppose he should take to following you about.” 

“ I think he is too gentlemanly for that. But if he did 
I should just stop and tell him some day how very much 
he was annoying me ; and, if that did not answer, a police- 
man might settle the rest.” 

And there our hero appeared at intervals until it grew 
dark. Theo had been sitting a little in the shade, and 
made no motion, or sign of recognition. I rose presently, 
lighted a lamp in the sitting-room, and closed the inside 
blinds. Theo came and lay on the sofa. 

There was a ring at the door. 

“ Will you go? ” she asked in a half-frightened tone. 

I opened it with a resolute face. 

“Ah, good-evening!” with a most polite bow. “Is 
Monsieur Durant at home? ” 

“ He is not,” I answered concisely. 

“ Is Miss Theo Durant within, then, and could I see her 
a moment? It is a matter of much importance to me. 
Please inform her — Monsieur Beguillan.” 

What I might have said I do not know ; but something 
in the fair, frank, respectful face, would have kept me 
from rudeness. Theo came forward, however. 

“ Ah, Mr. Beguillan ! ” she said with her stateliest nod 


68 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


of recognition. “Allow me to introduce my sister, Miss 
Durant.’’ 

“It is a great pleasure,” and he bowed over me. 
“ Then you are Miss Theo ! Permit me to apologize for 
presenting myself in this manner. In my country a gen- 
tleman makes his first caU on a lady in the daytime. But 
I was anxious to know if you escaped any indisposition on 
account of the accident. And I would like so much to be 
allowed to visit you. I wish to inquire of your father ; ” 
and he colored as he glanced around with some embar- 
rassment. “But you do things so differently in Ameri- 
ca!” 

“ Will you walk in? ” I say blunderingly, feeling that I 
am Miss Durant, and elder sister, and that something is 
expected of me. 

“ Oh, no, thank you ! not tiU I have permission of your 
father. Will it be agreeable to you that I should ask 
him? ” questioning her with his eyes. 

“ Why, yes,” returned Theo, smiling in an amused 
manner. 

“ Then I will wish you both a very good evening. To- 
morrow I will caU on your father. Your graciousness has 
made me most happy.” 

With that he bowed himself out. We stood and looked 
at each other in amaze. 

“ O Theo ! ” I cry, “ haven’t you done wrong, after all? 
French people are really betrothed lovers before they com- 
mence their courtship.” 

“ Courtship I Chris, you are a goose I ” 

“ But he seems in such solemn earnest I ” and I laugh 
at the ludicrous aspect, while Theo turns pale. 

“ I don’t want him to fall in love with me ; but it would 
be very nice, Chris, to have him for a friend. We might 
rub up our fragments of French, and parlez a little. It’s 
very funny anyhow ; ” and she laughs again. 

We keep talking about it until father, mother, and the 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


69 


two children come home. Father seems wonderfully 
amused, mother looks grave. 

“ What shall I tell him when he calls, Theo?” asks 
father. 

“Why,*’ and a rift of that bewitching color over- 
spreads Theo’s face, — “why, I’d like to see him, papa, 
— as a friend.” 

“Theo,” says mother, “I can’t bear that a daughter 
of mine should be called a flirt.” 

“But what is one to do, mamma dear? How can one 
tell whether one will like a gentleman or not, just by first 
sight. I don’t want ever to break any one’s heart, though 
poor Alfred believes his is broken. I do think I am hon- 
est and loyal, almost rude sometimes. Why do people 
hke me so well, and so quickly? ” 

I did not wonder at it as she stood there so sweet and 
beguiling, that little, pleading, deprecating smile half 
parting her lips. 

“ You are so young, Theo ! ” 

“ But I grow older every year, mamma ; and sometimes 
it seems as if I must have lived centuries, I feel so wise 
and so tired.” 

Papa laughed at this. 

The next day M. Beguillan called at the store. He 
was very much attracted by Miss Theo, and his intentions 
were strictly honorable. In this country he believed a 
young lady was always consulted in the disposal of her 
hand ; and he wanted papa’s permission to address Made- 
moiselle Theo on the subject. He had brought letters 
of recommendation from parties in New York. He was a 
watch-maker, and held a position in a large establishment, 
at a salary of fifteen hundred a year. Beside this, he 
owned a httle property in France, — a cottage and garden 
at Brignolles, that was entailed, and must go to his chil- 
dren. Mr. Durant could also inquire at his lawyers, 
Marcel & Pallotier, who were foreign real-estate agents as 


70 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


well. Having placed all his credentials in father’s hands, 
he begged to be allowed to pay his respects to Madame 
Durant a week hence, if Mr. Durant would be kind enough 
to permit. 

Father did inquire at the lawyers, and they gave M. 
Beguillan a most excellent character. He had learned his 
trade in Paris, was very respectably connected, and had 
been in this country two years. He was honest, sober, 
and industrious, and would make a very good husband. 

We were all a good deal amused at Theo’s lover, as we 
began to call him. Father was much interested, it was 
plain to be seen. So M. Beguillan received permission 
to call, and paid his respects to Madame Durant that very 
afternoon. Mother was charmed with his quaint, un- 
American deference. He would come over on Sunday to 
see Mam’selle Theo ; but most of his calls would have to 
be made in the evening, as he was employed during the 
day, and could not well be spared. Then he kissed ma- 
dame’s hand with the utmost gallantry. 

Theo was very gay over it at first. The oddness, the 
formal respect, the dehcate, Frenchy enthusiasm, and the 
gifts of exquisite bouquets, were enough to charm any 
young girl. 

But alas ! M. Beguillan did not mean to trifie. He was 
really in love with Theo. In a month he wished to be 
formally affianced, and proceed with a regular courtship. 
This frightened Theo. 

“ I don’t know how much I could love him, mamma,” 
she said in explanation ; “ but, if I was really engaged to 
him, I should feel it my duty, and be trying to make my- 
self, and that would kill the kind of love I beheve in, — the 
tender, spontaneous regard, that grows like a fern in the 
dark and quiet, and presently sends up tiny, faint green 
fronds that are shyly rolled up, and unfold day after day. 
But I am not sure that I can love him. I believe I do 
not like French courtships, after all, though M. Beguillan 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


71 


is so polite and well-bred. I am sorry now, that I let him 
come. He doesn’t understand how a man can be simple 
friends with a young woman ; and he feels as if she ought 
to take what her friends consider best for her, and O 
mamma ! I don’t believe I ever can marry anybody. The 
thought frightens me. The love and all that seem de- 
lightful ; but to give yourself quite away — to do what you 
can never undo.” 

With that Theo clasped her arms about mamma’s neck, 
and cried in a half hysterical way. 

“ My darling,” returned mamma, kissing the wet cheek, 
“ it will not do to marry without this highest of all love : 
there are so many trials to most lives, nights of pain and 
days of darkness, troubles, perplexities, that only the 
highest faith, the purest love, can meet. Your father and 
I like Mr. Beguillan very much ; but you are too young to 
promise to marry any one at present, unless your whole 
soul assents. So I think you had better not be bound.” 

I wondered afterward what would have been the con- 
sequence if mother had advised differently. Theo would 
have tried very hard to love him, and perhaps have been 
spared all the pain and anguish that afterward made such 
havoc with her sunny young life. There is a theory, I 
know, which teaches that souls are made perfect through 
suffering. Cannot perfection be a product of happiness 
as well ? for pure and unalloyed happiness is so divine a 
thing in itself, as we know by the brief moments vouch- 
safed to us. And, if that is to be the supreme delight of 
another life, why not admit that it may be a blessing here? 

So Theo bravely told Mr. Beguillan how she felt. He 
could not understand her scruples. He adored her : she 
would surely learn to love him. They might be affianced 
two years, if she liked. 

She was resolute now. Mr. Beguillan might call occa- 
sionally as a friend. 

“ What would it avail to come and see you, to look 


72 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


into your lovely eyes, and watch your sweet lips, if I 
knew they could never be mine? It would be greater 
pain than pleasure. No, Miss Theo, it will be best for me 
to go quite away. I should be jealous and miserable. I 
hope you will miss me so much, that you may repent and 
wish me back. You surely will not be ashamed to say so, 
— you speak the truth so honorably. And if you sent 
me a note with only one little word, ‘ Come,’ I would be 
glad to fly to you. I shall hope.” 

“I almost repented,” said Theo as she repeated the 
conversation to mamma. “ And yet he is not my ideal at 
all. Were you quite satisfied with papa from the very 
beginning?” 

Mamma blushed girlishly, but said there had never 
been a time, she believed, when she did not love him. She 
had never cared for any other, even as a little girl. If she 
had not married him, she would never have married any- 
body. 

“ That is love ! ” cried Theo exultantly. “ I hope there 
is a little of it left in the world.” 

Ah, brave, sweet Theo ! We could not see the thorns 
over which your tender feet were to walk ; but we wished 
something better still for you than Mr. Beguillan’s love. 
But, later, we came to honor his truth and manliness. 

And this is why Theo’s words carried weight with me, 
and kept me from sleeping for the next hour. 


CHAPTER Vn. 


** Yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company nowa- 
days.” — Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

Mr. Sargent joined our Dramatic Club. Miss Newby, 
one of our high-school teachers, admired him ever so 
much. She was one of the high and noble order of 
women, and held up her head in that straight, haughty 
kind of a way that frightened some people ; but she was 
so good and sweet when you once came to know her 
thoroughly ! It was no secret that her heart had gone 
down to the grave in that blundering battle of Big Bethel. 
Her lover had pleaded so to be married before he went 
away, and she regretted bitterly afterward that she had 
not consented. Yet she made no parade of her grief. 

Mr. Sargent walked home with us on the evening of 
the next meeting. I had taken Theo for company. 

“ How really splendid he is!” said Theo enthusiasti- 
cally, though I had tabooed that school-girl adjective. 
“ He has cultivation and refinement, and comes of a race 
of gentlemen. It does make a difference. It is not the 
age altogether, and I sometimes laugh when I hear people 
talk of old families. The Millers can go back over two 
hundred years.” 

“ What made you think of them just now? ” 

“ Oh ! James is nearly always in my mind. I wonder 
if you will marry him, Chris.” 

“ A good old family is something.” 

“ Didn't some discoverer tell of a toad that lived a 

73 


74 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


thousand years buried in a ruin, — the heart of a stone? 
He was still a toad ; ’’ and she laughed. 

“ How very uncomplimentary to James ! ” 

“ Chris, I do believe there are times when you most 
unpoetically waver on the fence. Yet you don’t love him. ’ ’ 

“No, I do not. But I want to go over the ground 
thoroughly; so that hereafter, when I see Mrs. James 
Miller riding round in her carriage, and I am still a poor 
school-teacher trudging on foot, I shall not be filled with 
envy.” 

“ Is he reaUy to have greatness thrust upon him in that 
style? ” 

“ He will achieve it, i.e., money.” 

“ Well, that is a temptation. But oh ! pause, and think 
whether you would like to have him announce in your 
drawing-room, and as your lord and master, that he 
thought a good minstrel troupe better than any tragedy ha 
ever saw, and that no doubt Shakspeare was all very well 
in those old dark ages ; but we had improved a good deal 
upon him. Chris, I should have a hysteric, and fall down 
in a swoon to make my guests forget, on the principle of 
one nail driving out another.” 

“I have about made up my mind,” I said. “Hon- 
estly, I have been trying to like him, because he is what 
would be called a good match, and also that I am afraid 
I may be unduly romantic, sensitive, or ambitious. I have 
also resolved henceforward not to accept any special atten- 
tion from a man I should not be willing to marry in case 
he should feel disposed to ask me.” 

Mother felt very much as I did about it. But, since I 
had decided in my own mind, the best way was not to 
allow Mr. Miller to ask me. Oddly enough, when he 
came on Wednesday evening, Mr. Sargent had called. 
The sliding-doors were open, and mother sat in the next 
room, sewing. I was rather awkward ; but we three did 
succeed in talking down Mr. Miller. Mr. Sargent, with 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


75 


the breeding of a gentleman, seemed to understand the 
position. He would have gone early in the evening ; but 
a glance from me, and an amused little smile on his own 
part, settled the matter. 

On Saturday I went about three miles out of the city 
to spend Sunday with a friend. Mr. Miller called, of 
course ; but Theo was engaged with other company. Then 
he dropped in on Monday evening ; but Theo and I had 
gone out to do some errands, and stopped to make a call. 
He did not make his appearance again until next Sunday 
evening, and two girl-friends of mine had come to tea. 

On Tuesday uncle Frank came in, and left an urgent 
invitation for me to come to tea on Wednesday. 

“ You had better go, I think,” said mother. “None 
of us have been down there in a good while ; and aunt 
Hetty will begin to imagine that we have some special 
reason.” 

“ But wasn’t Theo asked? ” 

“No one except you,” replied mother. 

So I put on my second-best dress, and went straight 
from school. Martha was up stairs, visiting aunt Hetty. 
After we asked about everybody, and spoke of the length- 
ening days, and all manner of trifles, Martha announced 
that her third sister, Jane, was engaged. Amelia had 
been married Christmas Eve. 

“ So mother can’t have many old maids on her hands, 
for there are but two left ; ” and she laughed in high good- 
humor. “They think Jane’s pretty young: but she’s 
going to do real well ; and I say the best time for a girl 
to get married is when she has a good chance. We girls 
have been wise enough to see that ours were good chances ; 
and so we didn’t wait for something better.” 

“Girls do make dreadful mistakes sometimes,” said 
aunt Hetty, looking over her glasses. “ I’ve known more 
than one who went through the woods, and took up with a 
crooked stick at last.” 


76 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ You remember Susan Green, don’t you, Chrissie, — 
the folks who live on your grandfather’s place? She was 
married a month ago to a poor shiftless chap who was 
wounded in the war and discharged, and hasn’t an earthly 
thing but his pension. She used to think she was too 
good for any one, because she played on the melodeon in 
church. I do believe George Brown had a notion for her 
once, when ’Melia was just a growing girl ; and I know 
Seth Jennings wanted her dreadfully. She’d had a nice 
home of her own if she’d married him. And she’s twenty- 
eight now, if she’s a day, and married to that poor coot 
who can’t half support her.” 

Were they talking at me, holding up these beacon- 
lights as instances to warn an unwise sister who might not 
see the good chance right in her way ? 

I began to talk of the new st^des as the surest way of 
diverting Martha. “Oh, she had an elegant new 
silk ! ” 

A very handsome purple. I suppose I did look amazed. 
The idea of Martha, with her high color and dumpy figure, 
wearing such a thing ! I felt tempted to scream. 

“ And I didn’t lay out a penny for it, either,” she an- 
nounced triumphantly. “Mrs. Leeds brought it home 
from Paris. The captain was killed in December, you 
know. They wanted all their mourning made ; and she 
offered me the pattern for thirty-five dollars. I’d have to 
pay four dollars for that in New York to-day ; and there’s 
twenty yards : so it’s a great bargain ; and I’ve worked 
it all out. When I showed it to Stephen, he was just 
struck.” 

So was I, but not with admiration for the taste dis- 
played. I said it was a lovely quality, and a beautiful 
but trying color. 

“And Martha’s no real need of working, either,” ap- 
pended aunt Hetty triumphantl3\ 

“ La, aunt Hetty ! whatever should I do with my time ? 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


77 


I couldn’t dawdle round all day, cooking a few meals^ and 
washing up dishes.” 

“ That’s just the way I used to feel about it. My ! the 
dollars and dollars I’ve earned stitching shoes ! And then 
that we should have lent it to uncle Jason, and lost it 
all! ” and aunt Hetty sighed. “But the new-fashioned 
wives don’t worry themselves much about earning mone}^ ; 
and I hope Stephen appreciates his wife ; for he might 
hunt a long while, and not find one so smart.” 

Martha laughed, and tossed her head. “ I guess he 
does, aunt Hetty. We mean to be rich, if there’s any 
such thing in the calendar. Then I’ll take my turn read- 
ing novels, and playing planners, when I can afford to ride 
in my carriage. I haven’t the time to waste now.” 

Did that mean us? We read novels, and played a little ; 
yet we seemed to do as much work as most people. Aunt 
Hetty here never had made a dress for herself, nor had 
a child to take care of; and to mamma had come six 
babies. 

It was a stream of gossip and comment until supper- 
time. Uncle Frank and Stephen came in ; and my heart 
gave a great bound. No James was with them. 

They talked of the war and of business. Stephen had 
made two contracts that he thought were very fortunate. 
They did seem to be prospering. I thought of poor 
papa. 

Stephen went out again to the oflEice. Uncle Frank 
took his easy-chair and paper, read, and dozed. The 
clock struck eight. I could go home pretty soon. 

Oh, grief! Stephen and James entered. 

“ I told Jim we had our bridesmaid here,” said Steph- 
en, with a jolly but rather coarse laugh. “ Somehow, we 
don’t see much of you, Chris.” 

“ There is so much to do !” I said. “ And mother was 
BO worn in father’s sickness, that we girls try to save her 
all we can.” 


78 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“Your father ought to go out West for two or three 
months. He’s had an awful tight squeeze this winter too, 
hasn’t he? — We’re lucky, father, in having something 
people must buy. Furniture is rather at a discount;” 
and his self-elated chuckle made me angry. 

Presently I rose to go. 

“ You’ll see her safely home, Jim. An old married 
man like me is generally counted out.” 

“If some one will just put me in the car,” I said 
coldly: “ I don’t mind the ride alone. It is such a dis- 
tance to any one who has to come back again ! ’ ’ 

“ I might go farther than that if I had occasion,” was 
the dry rejoinder. 

We said our good-bys. Martha kissed me warmly. 
“ Now do act sensibly,” she whispered. 

I drew a long, decisive breath, that had the effect of 
mentally bracing me. Just as we turned into Main Street, 
I heard a car. 

“ Let us hurry a little,” I said. “ If I lose that, I 
must wait fifteen minutes.” 

“Which would kill you,” ironically. “ It is a nice 
night ; and I thought you were fond of walking. No, 
you can’t catch that.” 

“ They would stop, if you called. Oh, do! ” and my 
voice was tremulous with vexation. 

“ WeU, I don’t want them to. I’ve something to say 
to you ; and, now that I have the chance, I’m bound to 
say it. I’ve grown so dumpy about it, that even Steve 
noticed it, and said, if I had an ounce of courage, I’d 
settle the matter one way or the other.” 

It had to come, then ! My heart beat horribly with a 
guilty feeling. 

“You must have known or guessed, Chrissie, that I 
haven’t been dancing around after you the last six months 
for nothing. I love you. I want you to marry me. 
There, the murder’s out ! Come, now ; be sensible.” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


75 


Just what Martha had said. “ O James ! ” I faltered, 
striving to release myself from the grasp of his hand. 

“ Don’t say no, Chrissie. I’ll do any thing for you. 
I can give you a nice home, and pretty clothes ; and you 
shall have your own way in every thing. If you like to 
keep a servant, no one shall laugh you out of it ; and you 
needn’t so much as soil your pretty hands. Say yes, 
dear ; do ! ” 

“O James! I wiU not affect to despise these things; 
6ut there is something else ” — 

“You’re thinking of that Sargent chap. Men of his 
stamp don’t treat a wife any better’ n I should. They’re 
/lard and selfish to live with, if they are fair on the out- 
ride. And how do you know he wants you? ” 

“ I don’t know,” I replied with cold dignity. “It is 
AOt my habit to speculate, as soon as I meet a person, 
whether he wants to marry me or not. I have no idea 
that Mr. Sargent does. Please leave him out of the 
question.” 

“ But you have been different since the first night you 
met him.” 

“ I have been a little cool and distant since I began to 
suspect you were caring for me in this way. I thought 
you would see, and save yourself the pain,” I answered 
bravely, but with mental disquietude. 

“ Well, why can’t you marry me, if you don’t care for 
him? ” he asked obtusely. 

“ Because I do not love you, if you will have the plain 
truth.” 

“ But you might try. Am I so much worse than other 
young men, because I haven’t been polished up into a 
lawyer or a doctor? Ten years from this time. I’ll engage 
to have as much money as that Sargent, or any other fine 
chap.” 

I was exceedingly annoyed for a moment. Why should 
he refer so pertinaciously to Mr. Sargent? Then I re- 
membered the measure of the man. 


80 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ You are not worse at all. You are honest and kind 
and true, and will no doubt make some woman very 
happy. But we do not suit. I should not be able to 
make you content ; and, with the very best intentions on 
your part, you could not give me what I most desire. I 
cannot make you understand. I can only feel what it 
would be ; and I cannot take upon myself a life that would 
fret and jar at every turn. It would be treason and 
ingratitude to share your home, your love, to accept con- 
tinual efforts for my happiness, and yet only make you 
miserable. So do not think of me in that hght. I am 
very sorry this happened.” 

“ But you might he persisted. 

I stopped short, my patience almost exhausted. 

“Mr. Miller,” I began again, this time in a decisive 
tone, “ I will confess to you that I have tried. It was 
then I found out how utterly impossible it would be, not 
from any fault on your part, but just from that incompati- 
bility of temperament which always renders a marriage 
miserable. That is all there is of it ; ” and I signalled a 
car. 

“ You’ll never find any one to love you any better,” he 
returned in a sullen tone. 

“That may be. Don’t feel compelled to go all the 
way with me ; ” for I was fain to say good-night then 
and there. 

He entered, however ; and we rode on in silence. My 
anger subsided a little, and I stole a timid glance at him. 
He was bitterly disappointed. Why could I not resolve 
to cast my lot among kindly, commonplace people? To 
what height was I aspiring, that I should hold myself so 
regally above them? But to make this man master of my 
future hfe, and then to meet the man I might have hon- 
ored and loved, — no : I could not so mar the years to 
come, standing here, as I did, on the very threshold of 
youth. I had a good education, and was fitted to earn 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


81 


my own living. If my name were Smith, or Brown, oi 
something uglier; but Miss Durant was rather styhsh, 
and 1 could endure it a few years longer. 

We walked our brief block, and stood on the doorstep. 

“Well,” he said in a sort of jerky fashion, “it isn’t 
my style to hang around after a girl when she’s given me 
the mitten fair and square : so good-by. Miss Durant ; 
and I hope you’U be able to suit yourself.” 

“ Good-by ; ” and we shook hands coldly. 

Theo had come home from school, and gone to bed with 
a headache. I ran up to our room now, and found her 
better, and told her the whole unlucky episode. 

‘ ‘ I suppose it had to culminate in that : but it is done 
with now ; and somehow I seem to understand that you 
wouldn’t be very happy with him. It is a little more 
than the daily bread and potato, and a fine silk gown.” 

“ I wonder if I ever shall be happy, Theo? ” 

“ A contented mind, dear,” with droll sententiousness. 

“ AYell, there is the end of one trouble.” 

But it was not the end. A week afterward I came 
home one day to find aunt Hetty sitting by the window 
with her sewing. She greeted me very coolly. 

“Now you are in for it,” said Theo with a funny httle 
moue. “ Mamma has had her sermon on the folly of 
bringing up girls to despise honest young men, and expect 
to marry lords.” 

“ I am sure we do not owe aunt Hetty any thing,” I 
cried indignantly. “ She hasn’t taken one of us to bring 
up, or even made us a handsome present in all our lives ; 
and mother has altered her old dresses, and trimmed her 
bonnets, to save a quarter.” 

I re-arranged my hair, changed my dress, and dawdled 
a while. All this, no doubt, helped to steep the rod in 
pickle. She lost no time when I did come. 

“ What was I thinking about to let such a chance slip? 
The Millers were one of the solid old famihes of North- 


82 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


wood ; so well connected too. And the boys were so 
enterprising, so steady ! none of your dancing, flirting 
fellows.” James was extravagantly fond of dancing, 
though he did it in the heavy style. ‘‘ Martha never had to 
stay at home alone, unless Stephen was out on some im- 
portant business. Did I know school-teachers were gen- 
erally old maids ; so queer that men seldom cared to marry 
them! What was I waiting for? She should think 
mother would be only too glad to marry off one of her 
girls when Joseph’s business was so poor, and so many 
likely young men being killed in the war. Husbands 
would not grow on every bush after this, as we’d And.” 

“ Aunt Hetty,” I said, “ I suppose you married the 
man of your choice.” 

“ Well, I don’t know as there was much choice about 
it. I didn’t mean to be an old maid, if I could help it, 
and your uncle Frank asked me. He was a good, steady 
man ; and I didn’t go into all this high-flown nonsense 
and spiritualism about sjunpathy and affinity, and what 
not. Girls have their hands so full of reading and plays, 
and trash of all kinds, that they can’t tell a good man 
when they see him. Take my word for it, Chrissie 
Durant, you’ll live to be sorry that you ever refused James 
Miller.” 

“Then I’U be sorry,” I answered defiantly. “I 
esteem him more highly than you ; for I want him to have 
a wife who loves him, and you want me to marry him for 
the sake of a home. I can make my own home.” 

“ Well, I don’t understand all these new-fangled notions 
about love,” jerking her chin in the air. “ He wants you, 
and you could make him happy enough, if you had a mind 
to try. If any thing happened to your father, you might 
be thankful for a good husband ; and I’m sure you’ve had 
warnings with these two long fevers.” 

“ Aunt Hetty, we won’t say another word about it,” 
I cried in exasperation. “If it is my fate to be an old 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


83 


maid I will accept it with resignation, and never blame 
you. Now let us talk of something else.” 

Bu 4 aunt Hetty was not to be molhfied. After tea I 
was taaukful to put her in the car en route for home. It 
led to a great coolness between the Montagues and Capu- 
lets ; aiid aunt Hetty never cordially forgave me. 

Sprivig came on apace. As I said, we were trying our 
utmost at economy. We pulled out our old last year’s 
gowns, and considered ; for every thing was very high, and 
men’s hearts were quaking for fear. We did not know 
that Grant was to sit down and thunder at Richmond, and 
Sherman to come up by the sea, when, lo ! war would be 
at an end. But new enlistments were going on, and drafts 
had begun. The country was rolling up a fearful burthen 
of debt. 

Archie kept pretty well. He had been in several bat- 
tles, and escaped miraculously, it seemed to us. He was 
very enthusiastic, and bound to see the end of it, if it 
took ten years. He often telegraphed after a battle just 
that one magic word, “ Safe,” and we were content. 

But we began to feel quite poor. My money that came 
promptly every month melted away so fast ! I had once 
saved fifty dollars ; but it had gone to help pay doctor’s 
bill and the girl for two months. Now we said, “ The 
pique will make over for Ardella, and her Leghorn hat will 
look pretty with Theo’s blue velvet and feathers ; but she 
must have boots, gloves, and parasol.” 

“ I shall not want any thing,” said mamma, “ except 
to have my Neapolitan pressed : there is quite enough in 
the house to trim it. I am so thankful I bought my nice 
lace shawl when goods were reasonable ! But Dick must 
have a new suit of clothes, and I hate to run up any 
bills.” 

When I received my April’s salary, I took Dick out, 
and treated him to a new suit of pretty cadet-gray cloth. 
The three pieces were seventeen dollars ; hat, three ; shoes, 


84 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


four ; gloves and half a dozen new pairs of socks, two 
and a half : but he would be off our hands now for nearly 
all summer. Little mother had so many things to think 
about, that I was learning to save her perplexity. 

And one that troubled us very much was Theo. Her 
distressing headaches came more frequently. She had no 
appetite ; and often she would look so deadly pale, then a 
few hours afterward she would be brilliant and blooming. 
She was bright and ambitious, so full of fun and nonsense, 
that you could hardly tell whether it was any thing serious 
or not. But one day in school she dropped down in a 
dead faint, and was brought home in a carriage. Dr. 
Sheldon was summoned. 

For a week Theo lay quiet in bed ; not much fever, not 
much of any thing, it seemed, only when she fell into a doze 
she looked just as if she were dead. 

“ She has been stud3dng too hard,” said the doctor. 
“ She must not go back to school again, and she must not 
sew a stitch on the machine. Get her off somewhere to 
the country, and let her lie around under the trees, and 
hear the birds sing. And she may read some very fool- 
ish novels, — the kind one goes to sleep over.” 

“ But I wanted to graduate. And every week is so 
precious ! ” The tears fiUed Theo’s ej^es. 

“ You won’t graduate this year, my dear child. If you 
care to live at all, you must be careful. You have a pe- 
culiar nervous organization. If you think of teaching 
school, I may as well tell you here and now, that you 
cannot stand it. You will have to be the home girl, 
changing about in j^our employments, and easing your- 
self up here and there when you are tired.” 

A fortnight passed ; and Theo was still weak and lan- 
guid, with queer faint spells. She laughed, and told the 
doctor they were just like Mrs. Sandborn’s hysterics. 
Mrs. Sandborn was a neighbor of ours, a pretty, delicate 
married woman, who boasted of having a complaint that 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


85 


puzzled all the doctors. She couldn’t sew, she couldn’t 
even dust a room, nor take the least care of her two 
children. Her two servants and Mr. Sandborn attended 
to every thing. She spent most of her time on the bed, 
dressed in the prettiest of wrappers, reading novels, or 
entertaining company . Friends took her out driving ; 
and it was astonishing how long she could sit up in a car- 
riage, or how well she could stand parties. Lizzy, the 
nursemaid, said, if Mr. Sandborn. ever refused her any 
thing, she always had one of her spells in the night, when 
she was sure she was going to die, and had the doctor 
brought, and occasionally sent for dear friends to receive 
her dying-messages. Dr. Sheldon had offended her irre- 
mediably by calling it hysterics. 

He laughed a little at Theo now, but was very earnest 
that she should do no more studying. And indeed it did 
seem useless to go back to school ; for she could not 
regain the lost time at this period of the session. 

One fine June day I rushed home after some tiresome 
examinations, in which my class had seemed fearfully stu- 
pid, it appeared to me. There sits Theo up in our room, 
cool and sweet, fashioning a daint}" dotted Suisse for sum- 
mer-wear, out of our two old skirts. On the bureau are 
ranged three hats that will be the envy of the street, the 
work of her fairy-fingers, numerous odds and ends, and 
a dollar or two of fresh expense. I do believe Theo was 
born to be an artist ; and yet she has musical hands and 
a musical throat. 

“ O Theo ! ” I cry “ there is the most splendid thing 
on foot, and I’ve joined for you and myself, — a whole 
month in a quaint httle place on Long Island, where there 
is sea and bathing and rowing, and a farm, and a great 
roomy old house ; oh, and a horse ! and a party of teach- 
ers are going down to keep house. We can have all our 
fruit and vegetables and milk ; and it will be too gay for 
any thing.” 


86 


FEOM HAND TO MODTH. 


“Indeed!” and Theo shakes out yards of ruMng. 
“ Whose house may be so hospitably inchned? ” 

“ Tho plan is Miss Newby’s. Her aunt and uncle own 
the farm ; but they want to go to Maine for a month, and 
have asked Mrs. Newby to come down and look after the 
place. So she proposed to bring some friends, and run 
the house, pa3dng the man’s wages. Eight ladies beside 
the Newbys can go. We are to do our own housework, 
and will only have to buy meat and flour, and a few 
things : Miss Newby thinks it will not be more than 
three dollars a week. Then it costs about two and a half 
to get there. Several gentlemen wiU be invited for the 
last week. It will be royal.” 

“Five, ten, for travelling,” counts Theo; “six — 
twenty-four for board, thirty-four, and, say, ten for inci- 
dentals : can you, Chris? It is so good of you to think 
of it!” 

“ Why, with July’s money, I shall have over forty 
dollars ; and there will be August’s when I come back, 
to make up deflciencies. We have been so very economi- 
cal this summer ! Miss Newby will be here to-morrow to 
talk it over. I have quite set my heart upon it.” 

“ Oh, it seems too nice to come true ! ” cries Theo with 
ghstening eyes. 


CHAPTER Vin. 


** Have given yon here a thread of mine own life.” 

Tempest, 

Miss Newby came, and we talked it over. Father and 
mother both liked it. To be sure, I had thought a year 
ago I should go to Niagara ; but a week’s pleasure would 
not be so good for Theo as a whole month’s change. Dr. 
Sheldon indorsed it warmly, with one very strict prohibi- 
tion. On no account must Theo go in bathing, unless the 
water was very warm and very smooth ; but he would 
rather that she would not go in at all. 

We send Dick off to a second or third cousin at Med- 
ford, who says he shall be glad to have him to do little 
chores : so there will be only mother and Dell at home. 

Now that school has ended, I feel how tired I am. I 
pack away clothes to alter or furbish up while we are in 
the country. We go out to tea once or twice, and on one 
lovely moonlight excursion. Mr. Sargent is our escort. 
We have seen him at intervals, and like him so much. 

Ah, how delicious it is to dance to the dreamy rhythm 
of the waves and the beguihng music, that sounds so en- 
chanting at night and on the water ! The horns quiver ; 
the cornet sends out wafts and trills of melody ; fine and 
clear whistle the fiutes ; and oh the viohns ! — passionate, 
tremulous, eager, trailing over space, palpitating on the 
air, stealing your very soul until your whole being 
throbs and thrills. Mr. Sargent essays a few qua- 
drilles ; then we sit down, and watch the others. Theo is 

87 


88 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


waltzing now : with her it is poetry, harmony, a pure, 
beautiful dream. 

We talk first about the farm-house scheme. He has 
heard of it from Miss Newby. 

“ I have half a mind to get up a party, and start op- 
position. We mightn’t be able to make bread, perhaps ; 
but I can fry fish, and am quite celebrated for my oyster- 
stews.” 

“ Oh, do ! ” I replied. “ You might bring a tent, and 
become our next-door neighbor ; so that, if you met with 
any mishaps, we could enjoy them.” 

“ You wicked girl ! ” 

Then we lapse into other subjects, — books we have 
read, music we have heard, and stumble over that pecu- 
liar, delicate, soul-stirring “ Counterparts.” I instance 
Rafe’s strange honeymoon, Ceciha’s visit and her music, 
and, last of all, the night in the boat when Rafe talks to 
her and at her, and makes his admission, lays bare the 
secret of his life, at once so pathetic and so passionless. 

“ Oh ! ” I cry, “ why were they so fatally blind? They 
might have been so happy ! ” 

“I wonder,” and there comes a strange dreaminess 
into Horace Sargent’s eyes, “if it is best that one should 
have a life of happiness? Wouldn’t the perfect bhss 
exhaust, enervate ? ” 

“ Why should it? I think the eflbrt to make one’s 
self content, or rather persuade one’s self that something 
is happiness which is not really, exhausts much more. 
Was Rose happy? Did not those two souls, both so 
lovely in themselves, wear upon each other until — well, 
there was nothing left but for one of them to die? ” 

“ And the fatal bhndness doesn’t stop there. How 
can one help growing out of some loves any more than of 
some phases of existence? Yet there is honor and truth 
alwa3"s. But I wonder which would be best, — one wild, 
delicious draught, and gray dregs afterward, or common- 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


89 


place loves and enjoyments ; for, strange to relate, these 
highly- wrought episodes seldom do last.” 

Was it a question to be answered. Did my evil genius 
possess me to say recklessly ? — 

“ Oh let the solid earth 

Not fail beneath my feet 
Until that I have found 
Wbat some have found so sweet; 

Then let come what come may: 

What matter if I go mad ? 

I shall have had my day.” 

“ Ah, you think that ! I hope you may find it — hap- 
pily. Listen to that strain.” 

Remember I was but nineteen, and had great faith in 
the possibilities of love. 

Then we go to dancing again. Oh, happy, happy 
night ! 

The middle of July, word is sent from Mrs. Newby that 
she is ready to receive us. We pack our trunks ; and on 
Tuesday morning the party begin a confused medley of 
horse and steam car, ferry-boats, train, and lastly a stage, 
which is crowded full, while the wagon with Adam Kent 
takes the trunks and two passengers. It is not a very 
romantic ride through scrub-oaks and pines ; but pres- 
ently we come in sight of a scattering village that slopes 
down to the great South Bay. Over beyond is the Atlan- 
tic. Trees are a little larger, though many of them curi- 
ously awry ; fields are better cultivated ; and the face of 
Nature appears more hospitable. 

The stage-driver turns in the lane to the Holworthy 
Place, which is off the main road. It is a great, low, 
weather-worn, old-fashioned house, with a wide door-yard, 
and roomy porch, Mrs. Newby comes out to welcome us. 
Such a clatter of tongues, and exclamations in every key 
and of every nature ! Adam shoulders trunk after trunk. 
Two or three go on the ground-floor ; ours up stairs. 


90 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Theo and I have a corner-room, where the roof slopes 
down on the one side, and is broken by a queer little 
dormer-window, while the other has a larger window over- 
looking distant fields and houses, and a long stretch of 
seashore. A finely-cut rag-carpet, that is really a work 
of art, covers the fioor ; a great high-post bedstead and 
chest of drawers that might have come over in “ The May- 
fiower,’’ a fragrance of sweet-clover and dried rose-leaves 
in sheets and blankets and ever 3 rwhere. 

There are three chambers up stairs and a space of open 
garret, in which are hanging all manner of dried herbs, that 
give out a pungent smell. Six girls go up, and four stay 
down, — two in the best spare room off the parlor, Mrs. 
Newby and Miss Helen taking the other. There is a 
state-parlor that boasts an ingrain-carpet, and those 
wretched chairs compounded of mahogany and horse-hair, 
and a great clawfoot table. But the living-room — with 
its rag-carpet, its home-made, chintz-covered lounge, with 
ample seat, its capacious, rush-bottomed, quaint arm-chairs 
- — is so cosey and enjoyable ! It resembles some stout, 
jolly, generous-hearted matron ; while the parlor looks like 
a tall, thin, angular spinster of forbidding aspect. 

Beyond it all was a roomy kitchen and woodshed ; and 
from thence j^ou entered the vegetable-garden, or walked 
down to the barn, — up 1 should have said. 

‘ We wash off layers of sand and dust, get into clean 
sacks and wrappers, and come to Mrs. Newby’s delight- 
ful tea. Ten women, — seven are school-teachers, one a 
musician, Mrs. Newby, and Theo. She and I are the 
youngest of the group : the others range from twenty-two 
to twenty-eight. 

There is bread, biscuit, delicious butter, cold chicken 
and ham, milli, tea and coffee, and sugar-cookies. We 
sit a good hour over our supper, and then have a merry 
time clearing it away. A fragmentary, sleepy chat on the 
porch follows ; and then we go to bed. 


PEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


91 


Adam was up with the lark the next morning ; but we 
were not. We had come for rest ; and there was to be no 
six-o’clock breakfast, so harrowing to comfort-loving people. 

We planned at the breakfast-table. Two girls would 
help Mrs. Newby each week ; two more would sweep and 
dust. The washerwoman was to come on Friday, and we 
were to do our own ironing. I proifered mine and Theo’s 
services for the first week. 

Adam was quite busy with the farm-work, which was to 
go on as usual, though we could have the horse part of the 
time. But the next-door neighbor, Capt’n Wright as every- 
body termed him, came over and offered us his team occa- 
sionally, which he assured us were ‘‘ spanking fine ponies ; ” 
and so they were. He and Mrs. Wright were very jolly 
people ; but the son, about thirty, was mortally afraid of 
us, and dodged out of sight the instant he saw one of us. 
Other people dropped in to view the houseful of women. 

Miss Newby had selected her party with tact and taste. 
We soon settled to our routine, and did very well. I had 
quite a fancy for cooking ; but we so abounded in berries 
and fruit, that desserts were easily managed. We went 
out bathing every day ; we rode ; wo drove, and walked a 
little ; lounged on the porch a good deal. 

We counted up our expenses the first week ; $5.00 for 
Adam; $1.00 for the washerwoman; flour, sugar, and 
butter, $4.10; fresh meat, $3.60; poultry, $3.00; han^*, 
$1.80; eggs, .90, —not quite $20.00; and “nothing for 
the fun,” said some one. 

The second week we were out yachting and fishing, and 
went to a clam-bake, where there was a black fiddler ; and 
we improvised an impromptu Hop on the hard sand of the 
beach. 

We did have the gayest of all gay times ; and such re- 
freshing rest, such heavenly sleeping ! as Theo said. She 
was a great favorite with all the girls. Miss Wilbur, our 
musician, was quite struck with her voice, which was a 


92 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


very pure contralto, she said. I only knew that Theo 
could sing old ballads in a most pathetic manner. She 
had another accomplishment too, repeating poetry, which 
she seemed to learn by instinct. Many an evening we sat 
round and listened. 

The second week engagements multiplied upon us. We 
were actually asked out to tea, the whole party : we were 
taken to the hotel, seven miles distant, for a hop. Our 
going was a “ straw-ride ; ” but we came home in the “wee 
sma’ hours,” half asleep, and bundled into bed. 

The third week it was resolved by a committee of the 
whole to invite some gentlemen. They were getting to be 
somewhat of a rarity ; indeed were absolutely scarce in this 
little village, so many having gone to war. Capt. Wright 
promised to lodge our guests ; and we were to provide the 
meals, as there were no near hotel accommodations. There 
was Mr. Wilbur ; a Capt. Norcross, home on a furlough, 
and engaged to Miss Stent ; a Mr. Cope, one of the high- 
school teachers, that we all liked ; and Mr. Sargent. Miss 
Newby wrote all the imitations ; and they were accepted to 
a man. During Friday and Saturday they all made their 
appearance. 

It had been gay before ; but now it was riotous. We 
had a piano hired for a month, and Mr. Wilbur brought 
his flute. One young man in the neighborhood played on 
a violin. We had a yacht, and were gone nearly two days ; 
we gave one brilliant party, taking up the parlor and hall 
carpet that we might dance with no compunctions. And 
so ended our fourth week : at least we came to Saturday. 
The Holworthys would not return until Friday of the 
ensuing week. 

Two of the gentlemen went home on Saturday, two on 
Monday. Then we cleared up, restored eveiy thing to 
its pristine loveliness, and looked over accounts. They 
stood thus: flrst week, $19.40; second, $17.60; third, 
$18.00 ; fourth, $26.00 : a total of $81.00. We were quite 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


93 


amazed at this showing, and unanimously insisted that 
Mrs. Newby’s share should be divided up among the 
others, which, after all, would only make nine dollars 
apiece. 

“ I wonder that people don’t often agree to do such 
things,” said Miss Wilbur. “ Of course we have paid 
nothing for house-rent or vegetables ; but I think city and 
country people might often change to the advantage of 
both.” 

“ Aunt Holworthy is none the loser,” said Miss 
Newby. “ Her butter, eggs, and poultry have been sold ; 
mother has canned and preserved for her ; and much of 
the fruit and vegetables would have gone to waste any- 
how, as there is no near market. They two have had a 
pleasant month visiting ; and nothing here has suffered. 
And we have had a very cheap summering. I hope you 
are all satisfied.” 

We declared that we were. 

Our incidentals for pleasure had been seven dollars ; 
our travelling in all would be eleve». I had not ex- 
ceeded my forty dollars. What a grand, happy time it 
had been ! 

On Wednesday we returned, and were received with 
open arms. Theo looked so much improved, that mamma 
was very happ}’ over it. She had taken the month quite 
lightly ; but papa was so pale and thin, that it went to my 
heart. 

“ I do feel worried,” mamma admitted. “ I was think- 
ing, after you came home we might go to Medford for a 
week or two. The business and the state of the country 
worry him greatly ! No one can tell what the result will be ; 
and yet it seems as if the North must be victorious. 
There is so little to do, except for those employed upon 
government work ; and the necessaries of life are growing 
higher every week. Now that bounties are paid, the 
indebtedness of cities and towns must add up rapidly. 
What the taxes will be by and by I dread to think.” 


94 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ But some people agree that national debts are bless- 
ings, and bring about a higher state of unity and pros- 
perity.” 

“ I can not think any debt a blessing. We feel the 
interest of our mortgage very sensibly.” 

“ You are not a political economist, little mother,” I 
said gayly. 

“But I am a household economist ; and when the prices 
of some articles are increased a third or a half, while your 
income decreases, it doesn’t seem to me that you get 
rich. Countries may have a different method of calculat- 
ing.” 

“But about going away. We can keep house now; 
and if you could start the last of the week ” — 

“ Yes, I think father ought. If he could leave business- 
cares behind him. I sometimes wish he had let the store 
go last winter ; but it did seem so hard to give up the work 
of ten years.” 

“We’ll hope for better times.” Somehow I couldn’t 
help feeling well and joyous and happy, strong enough to 
fight any battle. 

Theo and I persuaded father to go, and we worked on 
Friday like heroes to get them off. Dell went with them. 

Theo and I, with the assistance of the washerwoman, 
cleaned all the house, except the kitchen. It was not so 
very hard wiping off paint ; and there was not very much 
of that, as most of our woodwork had been stained a 
little, and then brightened with a coat of oil and shellac. 
It was kept neat and clean with much less labor than the 
scrubbing of paint. We washed windows, took up one 
or two carpets, swept and dusted, and then began at our 
fall clothes. We made some calls, and had in several of 
our girl-friends to tea. 

“ I wish I knew just what to do,” Theo said one after- 
noon, when she had been sitting in a brown study for ever 
so long. “ About going back to school, I mean, or doing 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


95 


something. I shouldn’t like teaching ; but I suppose I 
could do it. Then there is music ; but, oh ! could I endure 
the hanunering of children on the piano, and their atro- 
cious blunders ! I know what I would like to do.” 

“ What? ” I glanced up, all attention. 

Cultivate my voice, and sing. Chris, I felt, after what 
Miss Wilbur said, that it had a possibility.” 

“O Theo, the very thing! And there is church and 
concert singii^.” 

“I suppose I’d like to be a prima donna;” and she 
laughed and blushed, looking prettier than ever. “ I 
would really, Chris, and have an admiring world at my 
feet. But of course I cannot aim at any thing so high as 
that. If I could earn a little money, and do it easily, and 
stay home to help mother for a while.” 

“ Dear Theo, let us call on Miss Wilbur, and see what 
a little good training would cost. I’ll pay for the lessons. ’ ’ 

“ You dear, darling old Chris ! ” And spools, scissors, 
and work flew in every direction, while she kissed me 
rapturously. 

‘‘If I could earn some money of my own, Chris, and 
if we could take little tours together ! You have not been 
to Niagara yet, you know, and if you could save it until I 
was rich enough I I don’t know why ; but somehow we 
do enjoy every thing in so much the same fashion. Oh, 
if papa only was rich ! He ought to be : he has worked 
so hard, and been so saving ! Chris, I’m getting to be 
awfully heterodox. I am afraid the hand of the diligent 
doesn’t always gather riches. Isn’t there something like 
that in the Bible? And you know Lu Gidding’s father 
failed in the spring, and she and her mother are at Sara- 
toga. Could we have so many indulgences if papa failed? 
Oh my ! what a rambling sermon ! To return to thd 
text, it seems as if I ought to do something ; and whether 
it is best to go to school again ” — 

“Yes, I think I would, Theo. There would be on\^ 


96 


FEON HAFTD TO MOUTH. 


about three months of real studying, and then you would 
have your diploma.” 

“ But the headaches were so horrible ; and I feel so 
well now ! Still it will be very easy all winter, going over 
the old things. Maybe it would be better.” 

We called on Miss Wilbur. She was alone, and insisted 
upon Theo’s trying her voice according to method and 
scale. Oh, how beautiful it was in those rich, soft, flow- 
ing notes ! and half saucy and deflant in the clear, crisp 
staccato. 

“ Yes, I should advise you to study music. You can 
make a charming singer ; and a contralto voice is something 
to be proud of. Now, Miss Theo, l am a good deal inter- 
ested in 3^ou, and I will make 3^ou an offer. M}" terms are 
twenty" dollars a quarter ; but I will take you for twelve 
this year, partly for the pleasure of teaching ^’’ou.” 

We concluded our bargain, not without a warm expres- 
sion of thanks ; then we came home, and Theo threw 
herself on the sofa. I prepared our frugal meal. 

“How pale you look! ” I said as she came to the 
table. 

“ Do I? Somehow I feel tired.*' 

“ You sang too much.” 

“ But it was so fascinating I ” 

She went back to the sofa, and lay there all the evening. 
I picked out a few tunes on the piano ; then we talked of 
the future, but went to bed early. 

Mr. Sargent dropped in twice. Our travellers came 
home improved, certainly. Mother had been laying in a 
store of country things, — butter, potatoes, apples, and so 
on, at less than the usual store-prices. 

“We must be just as economical as we can, this winter,” 
mother said. “ Our coal is in, and paid for, and I have 
reduced my house-keeping allowance to twelve dollars a 
week.” 

Mother rather insisted that Theo should go back to 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


97 


school. She would be seventeen in October; and Dell 
would be fifteen in December. She was growing into a 
tall girl, not as ambitious over her books as we had 
been. 

I had so much courage that autumn ! I liked my new 
class pretty well. Theo and I took up a little French read- 
ing, as Mr. Sargent said it would be a pleasure for him to 
spend one evening every week over it with us, and be a 
good practice for him. What an elegant scholar he was ! 
He had been abroad, and spent nearly a year at Paris. 

Early in October, Archie had a furlough of ten days, 
and came fi3dng home. How strangely he had changed ! 
He was thin, but seemed to have grown taller, and held 
up his head with such a martial air. He brought a wave 
of strength and hopefulness, he infused so much courage 
into us all. We talked and laughed over old friends, and 
my love-episode was confessed. Theo’s beaux were a 
source of unfailing amusement to him. What had we 
heard of Alfred Dayton? 

“ Oh ! ’’ said Theo, “ he was drafted a few weeks ago, 
and wanted to go dreadfully ; but his mother cried and 
went on so ; and they procured him a substitute : so he is 
back at college.” 

“ It would be a good thing to take the nonsense out of 
him,” declared Archie. 

We had one magnificent afternoon out in the woods about 
four miles from Northwood, nutting. Mr. Sargent went 
with us. He seemed to have taken a wonderful fancy to 
Archie. How we laughed and told stories, went, by turns, 
from grave to gay, sang in the depths of the fragrant 
woods, gathered leaves, mosses, and nuts, and hated to 
return ! 

But, oh to part with him again ! 

“ Don’t worry about me,” he said. “ I begin to think 
now that I have a charmed life, and shall see the struggle 
through to a glorious ending. So 3^ou must be brave as 


98 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


well, and remember the sons and husbands that other 
women give.” 

Yet it was very, very sad. 

Mr. Sargent comforted us. We had never known quite 
such a friend before, quite such a man. Our associates 
had been mostly young and gay like ourselves. He was not 
old, to be sure ; but he had a grave sweetness, a peculiar 
authority, the air of a wider, stronger, higher life than 
ours so full of every-day pettiness. I spoke of this one 
evening, and of the larger radiance that seemed to fold, 
like heaven, about some souls. 

“ My dear child,” he said, “ we sometimes look at other 
lives, and think them heroic ; but perhaps we in our little 
sphere are doing just as much. The one little flickering 
candle set in a cottage-window may guide the belated 
traveller to a sure haven.” 

I thought of it many a time afterward. 

What did it all mean, do you ask ? I did not stop to 
consider then. Mr. Sargent was not a lover in the com- 
monly accepted sense : he did not come on regular nights, 
or seek me exclusively. Indeed, after Archie had come 
and gone, he seemed to draw near to mother with a strange, 
subtle sympathy. He brought her bits of war-news from 
different papers ; he would take a seat by the table where 
she sat with her mending-basket, — we had never been 
wasteful ; but cotton goods were going so high, that it paid 
to mend closely, — or he ran over scales with Theo, — he 
had a flne tenor voice, — and yet I felt in some vague way 
that he cared for me. 

“He is just like an elder brother,” said Theo. “ He 
never takes you away from any one, or monopohzes the 
conversation, or even frowns on foolish young men ; and, 
if ever you need some one, he is just at hand like an 
inspiration.” 

Perhaps I ought to refrain from this confession ; but I 
cannot. Mr. Sargent certainly did meet my ideal of a 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


99 


true and noble gentleman, — the man I could honor and 
respect, and, let me say it clearly, love. Many a wo- 
man, I suppose, goes through with a heart-history, and 
makes no sign. The promised land may be seen from 
Pisgah’s heights, yet the longing feet may never enter in ; 
yea, it may even be at one’s very hand, and the flowers 
wither unplucked. “ Thus far,” comes the cold and piti- 
less edict ; and you stand chilled to the heart’s core, 
while beyond is radiant sunshine ; empty-handed while 
the world teems with richness. 

I did not speculate, though I may have had delicious 
dreams. I tried so bravely to do my duty, — at school, 
at home, everywhere ! I went without the handsome faU 
dress I had promised myself, that I might buy Dick his 
new winter suit, and take that httle burden off of father. 
I was so proud of Theo’s voice and her improvement ! 

And youth has so many pleasures ! such a diversity of 
interest ! Ah, how fortunate that then we look with the 
eyes of youth, not those of middle age ! 

Lore. 


CHAPTER IX. 


** Alack 1 there lies more peril in thine eye.” 

Romeo aio) Juliet. 

We had a Homespun Club that winter, — an amusing 
organization, founded for the hard times. There were 
fortnightly sociables ; and the members were strictly for- 
bidden to wear any new garments. They also construed it 
into meaning modern, and rummaged all the old grand- 
mother wardrobes, until the meetings assumed the ap- 
pearance of character parties. 

It was the era of swelling crinoline. Theo went one 
night, just before Christmas, in a very quaint array, bor- 
rowed for the occasion, — a red velvet bodice (it had 
once been a rich cardinal tint) cut square in the neck, 
pointed back and front, and with elbow sleeves finished 
with wide lace. The skirt to it was black satin, short, 
scant, fastened across the front with red bands, and a 
lace petticoat underneath, the ruffle of which came below 
the skirt all round ; high-heeled, pointed slippers, with 
great buckles ; her hair combed above her forehead in a 
Pompadour roll, fastened with a high silver filagree comb, 
and falling in ringlets round her neck. In her hand she 
carried a small satin satchel, with a very fancy China- silk 
handkerchief, and an enormous fan. She looked so dainty, 
arch, and coquettish, so positively brilliant withal, that 
the moths gathered round her to be singed at her sweet 
will. 

Some one had brought in a stranger, an Englis hma n, 
100 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


101 


a tall, fine-looking man, with rather piercing black eyes, 
and a sharp, questioning manner, as if he was alwaj^s on 
the alert, and ready to bristle up, or to hold you off at 
arm’s-length. He had a touch of north-country accent 
that was quaint ; and his voice was pleasant, reall}' win- 
sor&e. He wore a full beard, and had a splendid physique, 
a fine, healthy color in his cheeks, and a somewhat dark, 
clear skin, but quite free from any olive tint. A curious 
feeling of aversion thrilled me ; and then I laughed at 
myself. 

He was dancing with Theo presently. 

“ Do you know who he is? ” I asked of Charley Davis. 
“ Did he fall from the clouds? or comes he from some far 
countrie ? ’ ’ 

“Ed Morton brought him. He is boarding with the 
Hudsons. Quite stunning ; a complete Johnny Bull, though 
he hasn’t the regulation mutton-chop whisker. Wonder 
if he’s a secesh. He seems quite captivated with your 
sister.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” 

“It is so, honor bright. He kept watching her, and 
then asked Morton for an introduction. Men are scarce, 
you know ; and even an Englishman counts when there’s 
dancing.” 

“Is he hving here, at Northwood? ” 

“I guess so. He’s a chemist, or something. Came 
from Philadelphia, I believe. I don’t fancy him. Looks 
too lordly, and all that ; but Ed says he’s a good fellow.” 

I was up in the next, — a waltz. Theo sat still and 
talked. Then they went to the refreshment-table together. 
She seemed to be bringing out all her fascination. 

“Theo,” I said presently, “how scandalously you are 
flirting ! ’ ’ 

“Am I? The Fates or the Furies drive me to it. I 
have a misgiving that Fred Rindell is getting rather 
spooney ; and I don’t want any more trouble in that line. 


102 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Why will they? ” and she made a piteously-pathetic face. 
“ Come and be introduced.” 

“ I should think you would feel afraid of him. He 
looks as if he had stepped out of a three-volume novel, 
or a haunted castle.” 

“ Vide Mrs. Radcliffe. I hope he has no treason or 
stratagem on his mind. He has been in this country 
several years, he told me.” 

By this time we had approached. 

“ Mr. Ross, this is my sister. Miss Durant.” 

“Miss Durant, proper;” and he smiled, showing a 
row of white, even teeth. Why did I think they looked 
cruel ? 

“ What an odd, amusing scene. Miss Durant ! I had a 
curiosity to see what a Homespun Club might be like. 
Are you not playing at it ? There is no linsey-woolsey or 
domestic check.” 

“There!” laughed Theo, “an idea! I’ll wear a 
checked blue-and-white gown next time. Oh! I can’t, 
either. One of our rules, Mr. Ross, is, that no member 
shall wear any new garments to these sociables. We are 
to inaugurate a new era of economy, and wear our own 
or our grandmother’s old clothes. Ours are all cut over, 
and worn out to the last thread. Our grandmothers must 
have been richer, to be able to save theirs.” 

“How many quaint fashions there have been!” said 
Mr. Ross with an odd smile. 

“ And how funny we shall look, handed down to future 
generations ! ’ ’ 

“You would look hke a picture ! ” 

His face was full of admiration. It made me uneasy. 

“Oh, that is the Lancers!” cried Theo, her eyes 
alight with eagerness. 

“ If I shouldn’t spoil it for you, I would ask you to take 
me through. I told you I was only versed in plain 
quadrille.” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


103 


“ Then I’ll be generous, for the sake of an opportunity 
of laughing at you,” said Theo saucily. 

He was not so bad, either, rather grave and stately. 
Theo was all verve. Her eyes were full of dusky sparkles ; 
her cheeks glowed ; and that subtle magnetism sped 
through every pulse, in swift currents, from powdered 
head to restless, dainty feet, that always made me think 
of the old poem. And you could have said truly of her, — 

But oh, she dances such a wayl 
No sun upon an Easter Day 
Is half so fair at sight.” 

I used to look at her sometimes, and wish — well, I 
never had the plan quite straight in my mind. If we 
were only richer ! If some one would paint Theo, and 
catch this dazzling, elusive charm. I could see how she 
would look on the walls of the Academy, — just “ A young 
girl,” and nothing more. She seemed such a radiant 
impersonation of youth. Or if she could have a true and 
thorough musical education, go to Rome and Vienna, and 
stand some day before an admiring multitude, singing in 
her sweet, unconscious way. There were girls who had 
educated their sisters — could I not do something ? Three 
hundred and fifty a year to buy clothes, odds and ends, 
pay car-fares : well, the surplus thereof looked paltry 
enough. Two more children to rear, and poor papa — oh ! 
it seemed as if I had never wanted money so badly as 
when I was dancing the Lancers at the sociable of the 
Homespun Club, and listening to the chatter of youth and 
hope and frolic. 

I sometimes look back to that night when Theo’s des- 
tiny came uppermost in the scale. If it only could have 
been different ! And it is still a puzzle to me why it all 
came. I never was a wonderful hand at finding out hid- 
den meanings. 

Theo came and sat down by me presently, drawing her 


104 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


breath with a quick pant. Her cheeks were still brilliant ; 
but there was a curious little blue streak about her mouth, 
just back of the line of red. 

“You are all tired out,” I said. 

“I am getting fat, and scant of breath,” she laughed. 

Mr. Ross looked her over, and seemed to smile to him- 
self. Why did he keep so close to her? 

We fell into a talk concerning amusements. He seldom 
went anywhere : he did not beheve he was fond of soci- 
ety ; and then his business required constant reading up. 
What was it ? Oh ! he was a chemist. He had been in 
Philadelphia four years ; but the firm he was with failed, 
and they gave him letters to New- York people. Having 
no vacancy, they sent him to Northwood. He always 
spent two or three days in New York during every week. 

I asked how long he had been in America. 

“ A httle more than six years.” 

“ Did he like it as well as England? ” 

“Business-chances were better, unless we meant to 
destroy every thing, like the Kilkenny cats.” 

“ And not leave any cats,” laughed Theo. 

“We have a brother in the Northern army,” she said 
presently, with a tender gravity. 

“ I am sorry for you, and him too. It will be the old 
story of Ireland repeated, I fancy. I do not understand 
the causes, for I have paid so little attention to your poli- 
tics ; but I hope your people will hit upon a compromise 
before you quite destroy your country.” 

“It will not be destroyed,” said Theo positively. 
“ Think of your wars of the roses. In what part of 
England have you lived, Mr. Ross? ” 

“ At the north. My father lived at New Castle in our 
childhood. I have a sister married there, and one in Aus- 
tralia. I have two brothers in Manchester, and my 
mother lives with one of them. But I went to Edinburgh 
when I was about sixteen.” 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


105 


Then they branched into a talk about old Edinburgh 
town, and he really was very entertaining. Theo said 
she was too tired to waltz again, and it was getting quite 
late. 

“ Miss Theo,” he said, “ there is going to be a concert 
given next week by quite a celebrated Scotch vocalist. 
You are so interested in Scottish matters, perhaps you and 
your sister would like to go. I should be most happy to 
escort you.” 

She looked puzzled a moment, then accepted. 

Afterward there was a stir about getting cloaked and 
shawled. We were taken possession of by two loyal 
squires, and reached home at twelve, tired and sleepy. 

“ But, Theo,” I said, “how could you accept an invita- 
tion from a stranger ? ’ ’ 

“Why, we are quite friends already, I am sure. He 
seems to be very nice, and you know I shouldn’t want to 
marry him anyhow. Then, too, Fred Rindell wanted me 
to go to a surprise-party with him next Wednesday even- 
ing, and I don’t want Fred to get sentimental. Why will 
they? It just spoils every thing. And see how foolish it 
would be in Fred to engage himself at twenty, not out of 
his time yet ! If one could live on love and roses and 
perfume, and tender nothings ; but there are essential and 
prosaic verities to life, — butcher and baker. It does seem 
coarse and conunonplace when you think of beefsteaks, 
potatoes, turnips, and onions. What a queer thing hfe is, 
Chris ! a little of this and that getting mixed ; and the 
right ingredients don’t always happen in the same dish.” 

“Leave off moralizing, and come to bed,” I answered 
sleepily. 

We went to the concert, and it was charming, — a Mr. 
Andrew McGregor, who had a superb voice, and a Miss 
Kernochan, a rather thick soprano, but jolly and capital. 
Mr. Ross was a delightful escort, gentlemanly, and not 
obtrusive. 


106 


FEOM HAiTD TO MOUTH. 


“ Now, Chris,*’ said Theo, “ I do believe I have met 
some one who will not be thinking about falling in love. 
It is nice to have one friend that you can feel a little sure 
of. I like Mr. Sargent so for the same reason.” 

I knew my cheeks were scarlet, and was glad that my 
face was turned away. 

We came to Christmas. I had meant to make my 
money go so far ! There was such a pretty cloak down 
Main Street that I wanted for Theo: how I used to 
stand and covet it ! — creamy, fluffy cloth, with salmon- 
colored dashes : light cloaks were worn so much then ! 
Twenty-four dollars. No, I never could. But one day I 
took a hunt around, and found some lovely cloth in a Jew 
store, that was offered me at flve dollars a yard. Ten for 
the cloth, one for buttons, a dollar flfty for some ribbon to 
face the hems, and there it was. We made it in holiday 
week ; and out of odds and ends she manufactured the 
prettiest turban-hat, trimmed with black velvet and two 
small, curly black plumes. Then we made mother a nice 
rep wrapper. 

Aunt Hetty was up one day. Martha had a little son. 

“ She didn’t keep her nurse but two weeks ; for she said 
she wasn’t going to pay any six dollars a week to have a 
woman putterin’ round. Then she told Mrs. Burnett, if 
she had a mind to come and stay a month, while work was 
dull, she’d give her her board. Stephen wanted her to 
have a girl ; but she said she wouldn’t bother with one, 
much more pay her wages for breaking every thing in the 
house. Martha’s what I call a sensible woman. Such 
folks always get along.” 

“ I never kept a servant,” said mother, “ except the 
two months last winter when father was sick. And I’ve 
had six children.” 

“ But grandmother lived with you.” 

“ Not at first.” 

“ Then you had one child to wait upon another. Mar- 


FROM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


107 


tha’s a master hand at managing. She has over a hun- 
dred dollars in the bank that she’s earned since her mar- 
riage. Chris, I suppose you’re saving up something? 
Three hundred dollars is too much for one girl to waste 
in clothes and flummery.” 

“ Oh, yes, considerable ! ” I answered ironically. 

“ Chris Durant ! ” and now aunt Hetty turned squarely 
round, stared me in the face, set her needle by guess, 
and said in the fashion of an earthquake, as if some 
portion of the earth’s crust would really open and swallow 
me, “ Chris Durant, who do you suppose James Miller 
is engaged to? ” 

“Why, a woman of some kind or degree,” I said 
flippantly. 

“ Well, Emily Taylor. They are Pleasant-street peo- 
ple ; and folks say those girls have from flfteen to twenty 
thousand dollars, and there’s their mother’s money when 
she’s done with it. You thought he wasn’t good enough 
for you ; and the Taylors could buy and sell you all.” 

“I never questioned his goodness; I simply did not 
love him : I hope Miss Taylor does.” 

“Well, you were a great fool to let him shp through 
your Angers. I’ll lay a dollar that you’ll be an old maid.” 

“ But, if I could save up ten or fifteen thousand dollars 
on my school-salary, I should be an independent woman, 
you see.” 

Aunt Hetty looked puzzled. I had extinguished her 
this time. 

I was surprised at Miss Taylor’s choice. There were 
three sisters, Emily being the middle one, and about 
twenty-five ; and they hved in an aristocratic row in 
Pleasant Street, had two servants, and kept a carriage. 
Miss Emily would not have put herself on a par with a 
school-teacher ; and, if she considered a tolerably well- 
educated girl no fit associate, how could she take a man 
like James Miller, and introduce him among her friends? 


108 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Would not his utter indifference to the culture and refine- 
ments of her social life and standing shock and mortify 
her? or had I been over- strained, foolishly critical? If 
I had married him, I might have done something more 
for Theo. But no, he would have said, “ Your sister’s 
good enough and pretty enough : let her alone. The best 
thing we can do for her is to get her a nice husband ; ” 
as if marriage was the chief aim of a woman’s life. 

Not that I mean to disparage it. A marriage entered 
into reverently, wisely, tenderly, is perhaps the most 
blessed thing that can happen to a woman. If, happily, it 
comes to her in youth, before faith and hope have received 
hard worldly shocks, before she has craved and hungered 
past all appetite, when she says, “ It is just what I want,” 
not, “ It is best that I should do so.” 

All this time we had said very little about business. 
Papa looked thinner, more worn, more worried. He gave 
mother ten dollars to buy Christmas-gifts with ; and out 
of it she renewed the subscription to the magazine and the 
semi-weekly we took, bought him a new pair of slippers 
and a new dressing-gown, at least the materials ; for Theo 
and I made it. 

Times were very hard certainly. Not so much among 
the extremely poor ; for their husbands and sons enlisted, 
or went as substitutes, and received the bounty. And 
this class, having little either way, if they could just 
manage to get daily bread, would be not much the worse 
presently. They had no money to lose, no stocks and 
bonds to depreciate, seldom debtors to fail, owing them 
more than the profits on a month’s business ; then they 
could always accept charity so easily. 

On the other hand were the contractors, the capitalists, 
who were buying bonds for next to nothing, and getting 
interest in gold, foreclosing mortgages here and there, 
and taking property for a mere trifle, and somehow grow- 
ing richer. They groaned, to be sure. Uncle Robert was 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


109 


one of them. He was sure every thing was going to ruin. 
He felt, sometimes, as if he would sell out for a few thou- 
sands, and go to Canada or England, before every thing 
was swept away. Still it didn’t look much like it. They 
had bought a beautiful house up among the aristocracy 
for half what it was worth. Aunt Robert, as we used to 
call her among ourselves, had servants, went clothed in 
silk and velvet, although the duties on imported goods 
were so high, drove her dainty pony phaeton, and seemed 
to know no hard times. Still I will say she was always 
nice and cordial to us girls, whenever we went down. She 
did not visit us much ; yet she was very charming when 
she did come. 

But it seemed to me that the middle class suffered the 
most keenly, being ground, as it were, between the upper 
and nether millstone. Expenses were higher; business 
was nothing ; little losses met one on every side. Then 
a man who generally pays promptly is always pressed 
for payment. We had a neighbor who never paid his 
coal-bill until the next summer, when he ordered his new 
coal. The butcher and grocer and clothier said, “He’s 
good; but he’s awful hard to get money out of: ” and 
so they seldom asked him. I used to wonder if prompt 
payment was the reason every bill came in so promptly 
to father. He was always saying, “Next week such a 
thing comes due, next month there is such a bill to pro- 
vide for ; ” and the planning for it was a continual anxiety. 
He did not belong to the class of people who can take 
things easy when there is a debt at the end. 

After his first fever, he had insured his life. It was 
considerable to pay ; but it was best that mother should 
have a little ready money if any thing happened. 


CHAPTER X. 

“ Thrift, thrift, Horatio 1 ” — Hajulet. 

“ Chiefly that I may set it in my prayers. ’’—Tempest. 

One night early in the new year, I was awakened by 
mother’s voice, — 

“Children, — Chris and Theo, — will you get up right 
away ? ” 

How preternaturally clear the voice sounded ! 

I was out of bed in an instant. “ O mother ! what is 
it? ” I cried in wild affright. 

“ Your father, dear. I think he is beginning with the 
fever again. Come down stairs at once.” 

I hurried on a wrapper, and ran down. There was 
papa, all dressed, looking for his hat.” 

“ Bessie,” he was saying with great apparent calmness, 
“ I must go in and get it. Why, you have no idea ! It 
will save me now, and make a rich man of me. That 
stupid express-driver took it into Mr. Mercer’s cellar. He 
will understand as soon as I tell him. There is a million 
of dollars in the box ; but no one knows it. It came 
through the Union lines marked, ‘Glass.’ Ha, ha! It 
was managed so nicely ! I shall not tell Mr. Mercer what 
is in the box ; for we are all bound by our oaths to keep 
the secret. A million apiece, think of it ! No more 
worries about business, hey, Chrissy ! And here is mother 
trying to persuade me not to go in.” 

He looked as I imagined a somnambulist might; and 
110 


FROM HAKD TO MOUTH. 


Ill 


yet he groped his way about in a curious, listening fash- 
ion. 

“Wait till morning, ’’ pleaded mamma. “You could 
not lift a heavy box alone.” 

“ Mercer will help me. It isn’t necessary to tell him 
what is in the box.” 

“ He will think strange of your coming in the middle of 
the night.” 

“ Night ! Bessie, have you lost your senses ! Why, it 
is broad daylight. But I don’t wonder, poor little woman, 
3^ou’ve had so many worries. A million will cure them 
all, and make you see straight.” 

“ Chris,” she whispered, “ go ring at the Mercers’ 
door, and tell him. Bring him in here.” 

How cold and crisp and starry it was ! I travelled 
round half the constellations, it seemed to me, while I 
was waiting. 

Mr. Mercer put his head out of the window, inquired, 
came down, and accompanied me back. He looked like 
one dazed, as father explained the matter to him. 

■ “ Are you sure it’s fever? ” in an aside to mother. “I 
should say he had gone insane. But let him come in. 
There’s nothing there, of course ; but he will be satisfied.” 

They went together. Mamma, Theo, and I huddled 
in each other’s arms, and drew long, frightened breaths. 

“ If it only is fever ! ” whispered Theo. 

“ And if Archie were here ! Or if little Joe had lived ! 
But other mothers have given babies to God, and sons to 
their country. O girls ! I ought to be brave.” 

“ We will be sons to you, little mother and Theo’s 
voice rang out clear and inspiriting. “ I think God, who 
is so tender of little Joe up in heaven, will care for us 
here.” 

Father came back with Mr. Mercer, looking exceedingly 
puzzled about not finding the box. The only solution he 
could offer was, that it had been buried. 


112 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ Now, you take things easy here on the sofa,’’ Mr. 
Mercer said, with a little side wink to mother, “ and I’ll 
go down town. I know where I can find two stout labor- 
ers ; and we will have that cement up in a jiflfy. Of course 
the box is buried there.” 

“You see, Bessie, he knows all about it,” continued 
father solemnly. Indeed, I felt as if I must laugh. 

“ I’ll run for Dr. Sheldon,” in a whisper. 

Father went on talking. His face was only slightly 
flushed, and he did not seem excited. This treasure had 
been found in the South by some negroes, and they had 
informed ten men at the North, of whom father was one. 
After much trouble and planning, it had been taken up, 
dmded, and sent around ; but why the expressman should 
have buried it in Mr. Mercer’s cellar, he could not 
understand. 

It was about an hour before Dr. Sheldon came. The 
clock in the sitting-room struck five. 

He listened to mother’s story. 

“ Has he been feverish? Have you noticed any thing 
not quite right about him? ” 

“ He has been a good deal worried, and spent several 
evenings at the store until very late. His appetite has 
not been very good ; but I did so hope ” — 

“ So did I, after winter had set in. It’s the business : 
he must give it up, and have a rest. But we will make 
another big fight now. Had you not better have a 
nurse? ” 

“No, doctor: thinking how the nurse would get paid 
would worr}^ me more than to do it myself. But oh ! are 
you sure it’s the fever? ” she asked tremulously 

“ It is a fever. There, be moderate now.” 

Then he went over to father, persuaded him to go up 
stairs and to bed. There were fever-drops and an ano- 
dyne. 

Daylight was dawning, — a clear, bright winter morn- 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


113 


ing : every thing seemed joyous too. I couldn’t get it 
out of my mind, — the strange, prophetic belief, — that 
father was to come through it all, and recover. 

“ Chris,” said Theo that night, “I mean to give up 
school. I am not specially ambitious about graduating ; 
for I couldn’t teach, I know. I am beginning to have 
those dreadful headaches again ; and mother will want 
some one right along. Then there will be spring sewing, 
and all.” 

“ But you will not give up your music? ” 

“ It is best not to have the noise of practising now : so 
I will put off the lessons for a while. There, now, go 
off, hke a good girl, and do not worry.” 

There were three very anxious weeks. Somehow we 
had come to look upon a fever pure and simple as quite 
a boon compared with any phase of brain-disease. It 
hardly seemed like the wildness of fever-delirium, it was 
so coherent, and the ideas were so like actual occurrences. 
Neighbors and friends were very kind ; but kindest of 
all was Horace Sargent: he dropped in every evening, 
and sat up at night. Mother said he was as good as a 
doctor. 

I did not do any nursing. Theo decided, in her busi- 
ness-hke way, that I must save myself for school. 

The second week, father’s book-keeper and foreman 
came up one evening. After the ordinary matters were 
talked over, he said to mother, — 

“ I told Mr. Durant the last of December that I should 
probably go away. My brother-in-law is in Washington, 
and has been looking out for me all the faU. Last week 
he sent word : he has secured the position. It will be 
worth from two to three thousand a year to me ; and I 
have been engaged three years, waiting for a prospect 
good enough to marry on. I don’t feel that I could give 
up this, though I am sorry enough to go away while Mr. 
Duiant is so poorly. I must send a decisive answer 


114 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


to-morrow, and be in Washington by the first of Febru- 
ary.” 

“ Can you think of any one to take your place, Mr. 
Armstrong? ” 

“ I don’t know. Let me see,” thoughtfully. “ There 
is a young man we used to have in the store, Luther 
Grover. He enlisted, but had rheumatism so severely that 
he was discharged some weeks ago. I might see him.” 

“If you would. Some one must be there.” 

Still he fingered, talking the matter over, as if he had 
not said aU. 

“ Can you think of any thing else,” ventured mother. 

“ I did want to say ; but you can’t tell me, Mrs. Durant 
— and I don’t know what to do. We wifi just have to let 
them take their course.” 

“ Them? Who? ” cried mother in alarm. 

“ The bank. Here are two notes that must be taken 
up to-morrow, or go to protest.” 

Mother reached out her hand for them mechanically ; 
but Mr. Armstrong hesitated. 

“ I tried all day yesterday and to-day. The business is 
on such a precarious footing now. Something may come 
to-morrow. I had better keep them.” 

“ Oh, yes ! What is the latest moment? ” 

“ Three. The bank closes then.” 

“ Yes,” with a faint smile. “ If I can do any thing, I 
will be at the store by two. It hurts a man’s credit very 
much to have a note protested, doesn’t it? ” 

“ Oh ! one can five through it, Mrs. Durant.” 

The next morning mother went down to see uncle 
Frank. If he could accommodate her with the loan of 
six hundred and fifty dollars she would see him made 
secure. 

Uncle Frank cleared his throat two or three times, and 
began several incoherent explanations. The only money 
they had was in the bank, in aunt Hetty’s name, and 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


115 


whether she^d be willing ; for of course Bessie knew they 
lost all their first savings lending it to her uncle, and since 
then she’d been queer and particular about it. If Ste- 
phen was willing — 

Stephen Miller came in, brusque and business-like, and 
listened in his unsympathetic manner. 

No, they couldn’t. He had uses for his money daily. 
He was sorry Mr. Durant was sick again. 

“ I’ll try Hetty, and send you word,” whispered uncle 
Frank kindly. “ Bessie, I’d do it in a minute, if it was in 
my hands. Joe and I have always seemed so near ! ” 

“ If you cuTi, be at the store by two,” said mother. 
But at heart she had no hope. 

She went down herself at that hour. Mr. Armstrong 
had hunted up Luther Grover, who walked with a cane, 
but was well enough in brain and hands. He would be 
glad to come. 

Moment after moment ; half-past two, and no uncle 
Frank. 

‘‘Ah, Mrs. Durant ! Why, how is Mr. Durant? ** 

It was Mr. Sargent. 

“ There has been no change since last evening,” said 
mother, trying to steady her voice. 

He sat down beside her. There was some new trouble, 
he knew. Could it be want of money? 

He walked over to Mr. Armstrong, and mado a few in- 
quiries, as a man can do of a man. Then he took the 
notes, and went down to the bank. 

That evening he and mother talked it over. He offered 
to look through the business, and see what he thought of 
it. 

“Oh, how good he is ! ” said mother. “He is one of 
the people who rest you. You feel as if you had laid down 
a burthen, or been on the top of some high mountain, 
where the air was sweet and bracing.” 

It was true enough. How, I cannot tell ; but I knew 


116 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


the man cared for me. He was not half as free with me 
as with Theo. Men, as a general thing, liked me ; but they 
went straight to love with Theo, child as she was. I had 
thought at first that he would : now I saw their natures 
ran in parallel lines, and were not likely to touch each oth- 
er with any quick thrill of subtle knowledge. Yet he was 
friendly, not lover-like. He came at no stated times, he 
always asked us out together. I had no fear on the score 
of position. He was not the man to think work of any 
kind lowered a woman. “Not what the man did, what 
he became,’’ he quoted one night, in one of the talks that 
interested me so much. And I had a kind of pride in 
not hurrying matters. I liked to walk slowly along, to 
gather here and there a flower, to watch the stars come 
out one by one, knowing how the heavens would look by 
and by. 

The fever was broken. There were several days of 
almost mortal weakness, then the convalescence began. 
But years and anxiety were beginning to tell upon papa. 

“ You must go away, and have an entire change,” de- 
clared Dr. Sheldon. “ Six months at least, or you will 
never be good for any thing again. — How is the busi- 
ness?” to mother. 

“ It is just as bad as it can be,” said father despond- 
ingly. “And I must get up, and put on the harness, 
and try to battle through.” 

“Durant, it is just this, — rest, or a few years of 
alternate sickness, and a state too miserable to be called 
health, with death at the end. A man can’t struggle 
through every thing ; and we doctors can’t do to any ad- 
vantage, if our patient keeps undoing. A six-months’ rest 
at any sacrifice.” 

Mamma talked the business over with Mr. Sargent ; 
and then Dr. Sheldon was called into council. 

“ I should give up the business, and start a clear man. 
You may sacrifice the house now, to tide matters over, 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


117 


and another year may be as bad. That the war is draw- 
ing to a close is beyond a doubt ; but as a nation we shall 
be fearfully in debt. Every thing will have to be taxed 
to the uttermost. The nearer a man is out of debt, the 
luckier he will be. And sta3dng here, keeping at it, is 
only slow suicide. I tell you so in all honesty.’’ 

It troubled father very much, kept him weak and de- 
spondent. There was no use of appealing to Frank or 
Robert. 

“ But to see the work of your lifetime go,” he said 
with a sigh. 

“Better that than life and health,” returned mamma. 
“ Though I would be willing to sell the house, if it would 
save you.” 

When papa could get about, a meeting of the creditors 
was called, and a statement laid before them. There was 
a good deal of stock on hand, but no demand for it. Two 
of the largest creditors pressed for their money. One 
was going to Europe, to remain for years. 

It was decided at last to make an assignment, and sell 
out the stock. Part of it was taken to a neighboring 
town. There was enough to meet aU claims. Mr. Sar- 
gent’s kindly note was settled, and the doctor’s bill 
paid, and then we looked our future square in the face. 
There was the house, with its mortgage of two thousand 
dollars, and just five hundred beside. There was my sal- 
ary of three hundred and fifty. Father was still very 
feeble. The least exertion seemed to exhaust aU his 
strength. 

He wrote to uncle James, and received a very cordial 
letter, inviting him to come. 

“You must go, and stay at least three months. And 
then you must travel around three months more. You 
have never had a good long hohdaj' in your life. It has 
been nothing but work.” 

“What will you do, Bessie?” with a faint, yearning 
smile. 


118 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“I’ll manage , never you fear. I ought to be a professor 
of economy by this time.” 

Father went down to New York to spend a week with 
uncle Robert. They were making great changes in their 
business, going into manufacturing and wholesale. Army 
boots and shoes were to become a specialty. A new 
partner with considerable ready money had been added. 

This was about the middle of March. Theo seemed so 
languid ! Her appetite was nothing. She used to faint 
dead away with a little over- exertion ; and yet she had 
such wonderful will and spirits ! She kept bright and 
laughing, and declared it was only a touch of spring 
fever ; and didn’t we know it was a very stylish accom- 
plishment to swoon away gracefully? She would not 
begin a new quarter of singing-lessons, but said, “Wait 
until faU.” 

One lovely moonlight evening Mr. Sargent called in. 
Theo had gone to bed with a headache. When these 
severe ones came on, there was nothing for hei but a dark, 
quiet room, and entire rest. Mother was busy in the 
kitchen, and Dell and Dick were studying lessons. 

“ You are looking pale and weary,” Mr. Sargent said 
kindly. “ Suppose we go out for a walk? These spring 
days are very trying. It is too cool without a fire, and 
too warm with one. Out of doors it is dehghtful.” 

I put on my hat and sack. He drew my arm gently 
through his, and we walked up the street, toward the 
country part of the town. Somewhere in the distance 
beyond, there was a frog-pond ; and to-night the echoes 
seemed to have a hopeful, spring-like sound. 

“ How quiet you are ! ” he began presently. “ There 
is no new trouble, surely? ” 

“ There is no need of new troubles. We are not done 
with the old ones,” I answered. 

“ My poor little girl, I tliink you have had your full 
share. I wish I could do or say something to comfort.” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


119 


He drew me closer, with an indescribably tender motion. 
I felt so weak, depressed, and his s^Tnpathy touched the 
tenderest chord of my being, moved me to tears. I gave 
a little, half-strangled sob in my breath, before I was 
aware. 

“ O my love ! my tired little darling ! 

We both stopped. There was a great open space, and 
just beyond a straggling grove of trees that had thus far 
defied the march of improvement. The city had not gone 
out so rapidly this way. 

His arms fell : nay, the hands closed in a quick, tense 
grip ; and through my tears I knew it was. not the clasp 
of happy love, or any delicious vision seen in the dis- 
tance. It struck a chill to my soul, prepared me instantly 
for what was coming. 

“ Christabel,’’ why is it that people always give you 
your full name in the instant of trouble, anger, or pain? — 
“ Christabel, I was a coward, and worse, to utter those 
endearing words, and yet I love you, love you as I 
have no right to love any woman, save the one to whom 
my word is plighted. Yet what makes the right and 
wrong, the honor and the dishonor? I have tried not 
only to guard myself, but to guard you, as any tender 
brother might have done. I have lingered within sight of 
you, watched you when others were around, and said, 
‘ Thus far, and no farther ; ’ and now all my mortal weak- 
ness has found a voice. O Christabel ! can it ever be for- 
given, this sin against you? ’’ 

I put out my hand blindly. Since he had not deceived 
me wilfully, since he must suffer, might we not as well 
have the fellowship in our anguish? 

“ My little darling! A man ought to take you to his 
heart, and make paths for your poor tired feet, carry you 
over rough ways. Shall I do it? ” 

He seemed to ask the question as much of himself as 
of me. Should I, could I, go to happiness treading over 
another woman’s heart? 


120 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ No, no ! ” I cried, with a pang that seemed to wrench 
my very soul apart. 

“ You despise me ! any good woman would.” 

“ I am not a good woman, then. I do not despise, nor 
hate, hardly blame. I see now how you have tried ; but 
it is hard — to give up all in a moment.” 

“ Let me tell you my story, and jou shall be the judge. 
If you think honor binds me, and must be obeyed at any 
cost, I will bow my head humbly, and take up the frag- 
ments. If not, nothing shall induce me to sacrifice two 
souls.” 

He was deathly pale ; but his firm lips and resolute eyes 
indicated much mental strength. 

“ Tell me,” I said huskily. “ I must hear all now.” 

“ Miss Adelaide Adams and I have been neighbors 
alwaj^s. She and my next sister are just of an age. We 
went to the same academy in our native town, studied 
together, graduated ; and then I left home for Harvard. 
Two years later I brought a friend home with me, Walter 
He^nvood, some three or four years my senior. My sister 
was engaged at this time : the elder one was very well 
married. Miss Adams is rather tall and fine-looking, 
with a distinguished presence, and decidedly intellectual 
without being an original genius, but is very highly 
accomplished. I always liked her very much. 

“ Well, she and my friend Heywood became engaged. 
It was a bitter disappointment to my mother, who in her 
heart had chosen her for me. They were very happy. 
He had one of those bright, joyous, hopeful tempera^ 
ments, while she was rather grave, more of the woman 
than the girl. He went to California to establish a 
branch house : he belonged to a large and rich mercan- 
tile firm. In a year or two he was to return for the mar- 
riage. The time was appointed, not the day, but the 
month. Hej^ood was taken ill with a fever, and died in 
ten days. It was an awful stroke to her, a shock to us all. 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


121 


“ Her father died shortly after. She let out her place, 
and came to make her home with my mother, though she 
had brothers married, and a very nice Income of her own. 
I went back and forth. I do not think I can recall all the 
steps of gradual regard ; but, when I came to Northwood, 
we had been engaged something over a year.’’ 

“ And she loves you ! ” I cried. How could a woman 
help loving him, when she felt she had the right? “ And 
she loved the other too,” I added, after a moment’s pause. 

‘‘ She loved Heywood — yes; I think she did truly. 
She loves my mother and me ; and she is quite an exclu- 
sive woman in her tenderest regards. Well, I came to 
Northwood to settle myself, as my uncle desired. I met 
you and your sister, and you were delightful young girls. 
Christabel, do you remember the night I rode up in the 
cars, when that Mr. Miller was with you? He loved you, 
I saw at once. I cannot teU you how I was Interested. 
You seemed so delicate, dainty, and refined, and he was so 
different ! ‘ Can she love him ? can she many him ? ’ I 

kept asking myself, and have her whole life marred and 
blurred, either lowered to his ways, or else worn out in 
a few years in the vain struggle to lift him up? ” 

“ But he is going to marry Miss Taylor,” I cried. 
“ You see women can love him.” 

“Miss Taylor is — well, stylish, accomplished, but not 
refined. She will laugh at his blunders ; then she is 
strong enough to mould him a little to her way of think- 
ing. She will not be in an agony of mortification over 
him , such as your sensitive soul would experience. 

“ You and your sister were so bright with the glow of 
youth and pleasure. I did not dream of any danger. 
Honestly I did not think there was any thing in my sedate, 
rather elderly manner that would attract a young girl 
strongly. I would be a brother to you, standing off when 
other pleasures were offered, coming a little nearer when I 
was needed. I Uked you very much. There were times 


122 


FEOM HAND TO MOHTH. 


when I wanted to establish the right of a brotherly friend- 
ship ; then I was afraid there might be danger in the very 
ease and security it would afford. God knows I did not 
realize until this very night what you had become to me. 
I did not know what a rapturous thing love might ” — 

His voice, that had been so strong and passionless all 
through the confession, wavered now. He had taken my 
arm, and we were walking on and on ; but I felt the nerves 
quiver, even his step grew hesitating. He loved me ! ah, 
no after-pang could quite shut out that blissful, if not 
blessed knowledge. But love did not always mean hap- 
piness. 

“ I have said to myself many times, ‘ If I were free, I 
would compel this little girl to marry me. I would woo 
her so ardently, tempt her with such dehghtsome visions 
of the future, that she could not resist. I would make 
her life one long, bright excursion ; ' for you know on 
excursions people stop, and build fires somewhere at the 
wood’s edge, boil the kettle, and spread a table, bringing 
out of hampers and baskets the choice bits they have 
packed away for this hour. It is not all idleness. And 
now, whether it is right in God’s sight to let this pure, 
sweet dream be thrust aside, or bear with a broken 
promise ? I think you could love me when nothing stood 
between. So far, I have refrained from any word, any 
act. I have never even kissed your sweet red hps, though 
sometimes I have been tempted almost beyond endurance, 
and have had to struggle hard with the giant of desire.” 

“ She is rich,” I said quietly. 

“Yes. Do you suppose that would weigh a moment 
with me, little girl? ” 

My heart gave a great thrill. 

“ But she loves you. Hers is not merely a cold, pas- 
sive , friendly regard . ” 

“ I will be honest. I think she does love me. If it 
were merely an engagement of convenience or worldly 


FROM HAND FO MOtTTH. 


123 


interest, I should not hesitate a moment. mother is 
very fond of her ; and Chrissie — can you explain this to 
me ? — I seem to love her just as well to-night as I ever 
did ; but oh ! my love for you appears like heaven itself. 
What shall I do? ” 

“ If you told her ” — 

“ She would relinquish me at once. She and my 
mother would live on there together.’’ 

A pang seemed to rend my very soul as I saw the 
picture in a blinding flash, like lightning. His mother 
would always look upon me as an interloper, a marplot : 
there would be none of that precious love and S3unpathy 
that had hallowed mamma’s life. 

“ Chrissie, I had no right to say one word until I told 
you this. Weak I may be, disloyal perhaps, but not de- 
ceitful. And now, think for me, help me. I want you.” 

“ Oh ! ” I cried with a great gasp, ‘‘ let me consider a 
little, a day or two — I am so bewildered ! ” 

“ Perhaps we had both better think it over. I have 
said heretofore that all such promises were sacred, to be 
kept at any cost ; yet I feel now that I would not like a 
woman to marry me from a sense of duty, while her heart 
was another’s. But it is such a solemn matter.” 

I turned around to walk back. Oh, if I could die just 
there at his feet, if he could take me up and kiss my cold 
lips, cross my limp white hands, and bury me without 
another soul to look at me ! 

‘‘ Have I killed you, crushed you, my poor stricken 
lamb? ” and his cry pierced me. 

I wonder what our lives would have been, if I had 
turned then and there, following out a wild impulse, and 
accepted him as my lover. Is not duty a relative thing ? 
Is not conscience sway^ a good deal by conflicting emo- 
tions ? Do we not think until we are confused and mor- 
bid? 

We reached home, and said a quiet good-night on the 


124 


FEOM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


little porch. It was Wednesday now ; next Monday even- 
ing we would settle it for weal or woe. 

I did not take my trouble to mother. I felt, sweet and 
s^unpathizing as she was, that she might condemn him ; I 
held him guiltless. A sad mistake — was it 'that? Did 
God mean that we should come to this blessed nearness 
and sympathy, see all these things in each other, and 
then wrench out the vision? Would it make a tree 
stronger thus to tear out its best branches? He had 
never acted dishonorably lover-like. Should I then be 
ashamed of loving? 

One sentence ran through my mind : ‘‘As 3^e mete out, 
it shall be meted unto you again.” If I took this woman’s 
lover from her, would a swift judgment interpose some 
time, and snatch away the thing I most desired? 


CHAPTER XI. 


** Are you good men and true ? ” 

Much Ado about Nothing. 

I WENT to school the next morning with a strange feel- 
ing. I seemed to have lived so long already ; and yet 
stretching out before me were years and years of school- 
teaching. These girls would grow up and marry, and 
their children might be in my class. I was so tired, so 
puzzled with the tangle, so afraid to stretch out my hand 
and take what might be forbidden fruit. How could I 
teU? 

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, with its morning of 
sweeping and dusting, and little helpful things. Father 
came home, and began to plan about his journey. Uncle 
Robert thought it such an excellent idea ! Two or three 
young friends dropped in with their girlish gossip of new 
gowns, beaux, engagements. It seemed to me that I must 
be two distinct persons ; that, after this, I should always 
live two lives, — the one that was, the other that might 
have been. I think now it was curious that I should 
take giving up Horace Sargent so for granted. 

It would be better for him to marry her, — this large, 
gracious, intellectual woman, with her position and her 
wealth, and his mother’s love. It would be a long while 
before I could help him climb any such heights. There 
would be my own family, poor, and in trouble maybe ; 
and I should want to share somewhat with them, bring my 
burthen to him, ask his kindly attention. 


125 


126 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Then it would flash over me like an electric thrill, that 
if I could only see her and judge ; if I could go to her, 
and say honestly and frankly, “I love this man too; 
let us compare our aflection, and then decide who shall 
give him up.” It was absurd, of course. No two human 
beings ever would do so. 

Do you say it should have been whichever he loved the 
better? On her side was all the old friendship, the thor- 
ough knowledge of her character, the desire of his mother, 
so many things that were sure ; on mine, the newness, the 
half fear he might be dazzled with something that was 
not pure gold. I could understand him as well as myself. 
And the dread of beginning life, and love, dishonored by 
a broken promise ! 

If he had been of the impulsive kind, and settled it all 
before that eventful Monday evening, and told me then 
and there that I must marry him, since he had given up 
every thing for me, I should have done it unhesitatingly. 
It may be that I secretly wished he would. A younger 
man might have ; a less scrupulous one would. 

I kept some children in after school. I wondered if 
this tense strain was beginning to tell on my temper. 
Theo was bright and well to-night, and hurried around 
with supper. Father and mother went out afterward to 
make a few calls. I walked quietly up stairs and lighted 
the gas, took out some pretty wool crocheting I was so 
fond of. The door-bell rang. 

Oh that awful, choking, constricted sensation! My 
hands grew cold, my limbs numb. 

Theo’s gay laugh, and a voice that was 7iot Horace 
Sargent’s. I had a reprieve. 

Eight o’clock. Long after, — it seemed an hour; but 
it was only flfteen minutes, — the bell rang again. 

This time Theo comes fljdng up stairs. 

“ Chris, Mr. Sargent is here, and wants you to put on 
youi’ hat and take a walk. He will not come in. And 
Mr. Ross is down stairs.” 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 127 

“Yes,’’ I say calmly, rising, and putting away my 
work. 

Why should I stop to tie a pretty ribbon around my 
throat, and take out my fleecy white Shetland shawl? 
There is no moon ; and, in this matter of life and death, 
will he see ? 

I go down slowly. I put my hand in the one out- 
stretched. It is cold : so is mine. Then he draws me 
out. I shut the door, and we are walking up the street. 

Presently we begin in calm, dispassionate voices. We 
have both, it seems, thought so much of honor, of truth, 
of beginning life rightly, of making no wilful blot or mar 
that may rise up in after-years a grim ghost to haunt us. 
Yet he feels more than inchned to give up all for love’s 
sake. I tremble and thrill, I am so near happiness ; and 
yet I put it away reverently, as one buries the dead. 

“ Oh, I can’t, Chrissie ! ” he cries, “ I can’t ! ” Then, 
in the next breath, “ But you are right.” 

Right. It is a magical word. No man shall tell me in 
after-years that I tempted him to wrong. 

Yet I think now, after all these years, that one way 
was as right as the other. 

It is all over presently. Have I turned into stone, that 
I have no more feehng about it ? 

“ Take me home,” I say wearily. 

He is talking of some future time when we may be 
friends again. Why, we could be friends now, to-morrow, 
any time. We have tried ; and we can neither of us step 
over this wide river, named duty, that the world or pro- 
priety settles for us. 

We open the gate, step up on the little porch. His arm 
is around me then. 

“Oh, my brave, sweet darling! ” he cries in a trans- 
port of love and grief, “kiss me just once. Heaven 
knows there can be no sin in it. It is like kissing the 
dead.” 


128 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Do dead lips ever have in them such rapture ? Shall I 
clasp my arm around his neck, and tell him that I cannot 
give him up ? 

“ Good-by, my sweet, sweet little love.” 

I go through the hall. Dick and Dell are having a dis- 
pute about a problem in algebra, that I decide. Then moth- 
er and father come in. The parlor-door is shut : so Theo is 
still engaged. I go up stairs, thinking how many old-maid 
school-teachers there are, and wonder if each has had her 
love-dream. I even laugh a little hysterically. 

I hurry into bed, and am safely sheltered by the pillow, 
when Theo comes fl3dng up, two steps at a bound, and 
pants breathlessly. 

“ The queerest, queerest thing, Chris ! I have had an 
offer of marriage.” 

“ Not from Mr. Ross ! ” 

“ Of course not. He was in the parlor; but the offer 
came down the chimney, or through the keyhole. Well, 
we are both too astonished to tell the truth.” 

“It is odd,” I say. “I didn’t fancy him a marrying 
man.” 

“ Nor I. I thought I had come across a nice, fatherly 
friend. I found him so good to stop off Fred ! And I 
haven’t treated him the least bit like a lover. I’ve gone 
where I liked, and — yes, flirted, to show h im that I wasn’t 
in earnest. He asked me, in a sort of formal way, to keep 
company. I really could not think at first what he was 
driving at ; and then it all came out.” 

“ What have you done, — not engaged yourself? ” 

“ Ah, bah ! no. What do I want of a husband? Chris, 
it would be positively ridiculous, unless he were a miUion- 
naire. And yet, when I was over the first sm-prise, and 
had had my laugh, like the Irishman, I did feel very 
sorry. He seemed to love me so ! O Chris! why do 
they? I’m such a foolish, flighty little thing, never going 
into sentiment and all that, but sprung out all the funny 


FEOM HAim TO MOUTH. 


129 


incidents in this queer world, and laughing at them. 1 
do not believe I have a bit of love for any one outside of 
the family. Why, I have never even had a girl-friend. 
Girls seem a little afraid of my moral and instructive 
comments.’’ 

“ But they do like you. Remember last summer.” 

“Oh! those were women, — most of them. Real old 
women and little children think I’m enchanting.” 

“ And now this has come to an end.” 

“Well, not exactly,” says Theo gravely. “He pro« 
poses to be considered in the light of a friend by all of us : 
especially now that papa is likely to be away, he thinks 
he might prove useful to us. And he gave me two letters 
of recommendation for papa. Why, it’s quite like Mr. 
Beguillan over again. And he is so gentlemanly! yet 
there is something curious about him.” 

“ I thought you attracted him from the very first.” 

“Did you?” and Theo seems to go ofi* in a brown 
study. “I wonder why he doesn’t like Miss Hudson. 
Report says she would be ready enough to marry.” 

“We all seem to be like the Scotch lassie: those we 
would have don’t want us, and those we want won’t have 
us.” 

“ I don’t know. I have not wanted any one very much 
as yet,” in an indifferent tone. 

With that she comes to bed. 

Tlie last of that week, papa went away. 

“Three months,” said the doctor: “ don’t venture 
home a day sooner.” 

We laid our plans. We would be so very, very eco- 
nomical. All the cleaning should be done by degrees and 
on Saturday ; so that we would not need to hire any one. 
Every garment that could be made over should do duty 
again. We would give up desserts, except on Sundays, or 
Wlien there were visitors. 

I was glad to be so busy. That Mr. Sargent should 
stay away a week was nothing. • No one observed it. 


130 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Two notes had come from papa. He had made a little 
halt at Niagara, another at Chicago. When we next heard 
from him, he would be at uncle’s. 

When we did hear, the news was sad enough. Uncle 
James had died very suddenly, of apoplexy, the day before 
father reached his house. He was stout and rosy, and 
had been out horseback-riding, after a hearty dinner. So 
the house was one of mourning. 

He remained a fortnight with them, and then came back, 
little improved. Uncle James was a very rich man, doubt- 
less ; but his affairs were in great confusion. There were 
two daughters by the first marriage, one of whom was 
married herself ; and, by the second, five, — enough to take 
all the mone}^ 

“I suppose he was happy, and enjoyed all the bustle 
and planning and journe;ydng about,” said father. “He 
had never been ill a week in his life. It seems as if he 
ought to have lived to reap the fruit of his labors, and had 
a hale old age, with his sons and daughters growing up 
around him.” 

Father had hoped that there might be some business- 
opening at the West, or, perhaps, within uncle James’s 
knowledge ; so that he could try living in an entirely new 
place. That vision came to a sudden end. 

He kept so weak all the time. He said he felt as if he 
should never be rested again. 

Then he and mother went to Medford for a fortnight, 
and he decided to stay. 

Miss Newby and Miss Wilbur called one evening. In 
the course of the conversation Mr. Sargent happened to 
be mentioned. He had gone to his old home in Central 
New York to spend a few weeks. 

“ It is said — I heard it from some of his connections 
— that he has a lady-love there. I suppose we will hear 
of a Mrs. Sargent presently.” 

“ I hope she will be as charming as he is,” I mad© 
answer. 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


131 


“ Miss Gertrude Sargent, or rather Mrs. Brooke, called 
there on her return bridal-tour,’’ said Miss Wilbur. Miss 
Sargent had been her pupil. ‘‘ It seems this Miss Adams 
is living with Mrs. Sargent, — a really magnificent-looking 
woman, somewhere about his age, and quite a fortune in 
her own right.” 

“ I always wondered, Chris,” said Theo, after they had 
gone, “ what made Mr. Sargent so careful. And he liked 
you a great deal, I know. But you could tell by looking at 
his face, that he was loyal and honorable to the last degi’ee. 
I suppose,” with a ridiculous httle sigh, “ that he wouldn’t 
have thought of marrying either of us. But he is the kind 
of man any woman might be proud to marry.” 

So my secret was safe. 

Miss Wilbur had asked Theo about the singing-lessons ; 
and she rephed that she should not take any through the 
summer, it tired her so to practise in warm weather. I 
knew that poverty stood in the way also. 

Mr. Sargent returned. Theo and I met him in the 
street one evening ; and he walked a short distance with 
us, and put us in the car. She wondered why he had not 
called. 

There was a momentary detention. “ Can I come?” 
he whispered ", and I said “ Yes,” with bated breath. 

“ Give my regards to your mother, and tell her I sha> 
be up soon.” 

Was it right? Now that I had suffered the agony of 
renunciation, I did not mean to run into a new evil, or 
any needless pain. 

He kept his word. We had a crowd of gay young 
company in the parlor : so he insisted upon going into the 
dining-room, and sitting with mother. 

“ Girls,” she began the next morning, at the breakfast- 
table, “ I was quite honored last evening by Mr. Sargent’s 
confidence. He is really engaged, and expects to be 
married in October. His mother adores her daughter-ln- 


132 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


law elect, who has been living with her quite a long while. 
How nice it is for them to be such friends ! I couldn’t 
help but think of your grandmother and I.” 

“Oh, dear ! I wish he could have married Chris,” said 
Theo, in her pretty, half-petulant way. 

After that he came several times ; but fate decreed that 
I should not see him alone, and I had no heart to interfere 
with fate. We kept our way on the different sides of the 
river. 

Then vacation commenced. Uncle Robert had taken a 
cottage for the summer, a little below West Point, on the 
Hudson. Aunt came over in person, and invited Theo 
and myself most cordially to spend a fortnight with her. 

“ That will be all the summering we can afford, Theo,” 
I said ; “ and we must have inspirations on the subject of 
getting gowns out of nothing.” 

“ I am thankful to dear grandmother’s spirit daily for 
my watch and chain. We never should have been rich 
enough to buy one.” 

I was devoutly grateful as well. 

Papa began to improve a little. He worked on the 
farm when he felt strong enough, and quite enjoyed it. 
Twice he had driven down with a great lot of fresh vege- 
tables and fruit, and really it was a treat. 

“ I almost wish I had a farm,” he said. 

We had some pleasures, — a few picnics and excursions, 
and a little going out for the day. But we sewed industri- 
ously. The thing I coveted most of all was a new silk 
dress for myself and Theo ; but silks were high, and I could 
not compass it : so we altered and retrimmed our black 
silks, made pretty gray travelling-dresses, and had a new 
white organdie, with most exquisite bordered flounces. 

We met uncle Robert in New York, and he escorted us. 
The cottage was very fair, roomy, but the furniture rather 
shabby : it had been of the showy kind, and the wear and 
tear made it appear common. But the grounds were 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


133 


lovely. Here and there such groups of stately old trees, 
and a terraced lawn that overlooked the river ! The horses 
had been sent up. There were three servants, and much 
coming and going. 

Aunt Clara’s eldest daughter was grown, and had a 
lover. A rather affected piece of vanity was Miss Rose 
Dinsmore ; but she took to Theo, oddly enough ; and she 
was too obtuse to see the point of Theo’s speeches ; so she 
only thought them funny. 

“ Chris,” said Theo, the next morning after we came, 
“I have something to show you, — in a little box.” 

I looked. A ring, with a very handsome opal set round 
with small diamonds. 

“ Theo Durant ! ” 

“ Well, don’t scold,” began Theo in a half-crying tone. 
“It is not an engagement-ring, I would not consent. But 
he made me take it.” 

“Mr. Ross?” He had called the evening before we 
left home. 

“I don’t know what to do. He loves me so much! 
He asked me again to marry him. Chris, I wish you had 
loved some one, and could tell me aU about it.” 

W ould it have made any difference if I had ? After all 
our pretended wisdom, are we not the sport of circum- 
stances ? 

I could not drag my heart out for her inspection 
There was in my sad secret no knowledge for her to 
glean. 

“ How do you feel about him? ” 

“First, that it is ridiculous for any man to want to 
marry me. Why should he, when I do not particularly 
want him, and there are so many nice people in the world 
who do want to be married? Then I like him, because 
he is so much older than I, and has some little ways of 
authority that I don’t mind a bit to his face, and laugh 
at, but that a wife would have to respect. And there’s a 


134 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


weird and peculiar fascination that seems to get wrapped 
round me some way : I can’t quite explain it to myself. 
His ver}" love teases me, and makes me cross ; and then 
I am sorry for being cross ; and the least little touch of 
penitence makes him love me more than ever again. I 
wish he would flirt with somebody, or stay away from me 
ever so long, that I might see what 1 thought of that. 
If I really wanted him back, I should fancy that I might 
come to love him in time. Oh, dear ! why are there such 
tangles in the world? Chris dear, if I was a rich woman, 
I would not marry any of them. I’d flirt a little, respect- 
ably and discreetly, not breaking any hearts ; and then 
I would retire to my old maid’s hall, just as Mr. Jarndyce 
used to his growlery.” 

I couldn’t help laughing. 

“ But about the ring? ” 

She took it out of the box, put it on her fore-finger, 
and twirled it around. 

“He asked me to marry him. I said that I did not 
think I ever could marry a foreigner of any kind, espe- 
cially an Englishman. Then I animadveited severely on 
their course from the beginning of the war. It was abom- 
inable ! — as if he could help or hinder in any way. If I 
had been in his place, I should have jumped up, mad as a 
hornet, and said, ‘Good-evening, Miss Durant.’ But he 
didn’t. Then I said I was very sure that I did not love 
him: we never should agree; I loved to flirt, and he 
had a tendency toward jealousy. He insisted that it was 
only because he loved me so much, and did not feel sure 
of me. And — oh! I can’t remember it all; but I did 
finally promise to think of it, with a most sublime indiffer- 
ence to consequences. And then he made me take the 
ring. I could throw it away, he said. He had bought 
it for me ; and no other woman should have it. And, O 
Chris 1 do you suppose it is true that he has never loved 
any one? That makes me stop and think. He is thirty 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


135 


now ; and love, like measles, seems to be harder for peo- 
ple, the older they grow.’" 

“ How ridiculous you are, Theo ! ” 

“ I know it.” And her comically-demure air of peni- 
tence was laughable. 

Why did he love her? Was it a man’s earnest, entire 
passion, or partly pique, and a desire to conquer, because 
she was so subtly elusive ? I looked her all over as she 
stood there in her daring prettiness, — a bright, bewitch- 
ing butterfly. I could imagine a husband for her ; but it 
was not Mr. Ross. 

Was not the husband of my imagining quite out of 
Theo’s reach? If aunt Clara had no children, and wanted 
her for companionship and society — 

There, Chris ! ” she exclaimed suddenly, “ I am not 
going to give it another thought this whole da3\ Rose 
asked me to go out riding with her ; and I must get ready. 
Oh to be rich and great and free! But if you cannot 
have it of your own, and your neighbors ask you in to tea, 
you may look at their silver, I suppose. Don’t worry 
now. You will get a little crease in your forehead, and 
look old before your time.” 

She put on her hat, kissed the tips of her fingers, and 
sped away. 


CHAPTER XII. 

You may partake of any thing we say ; 

We speak no treason.” — Richakd Third. 

That evening Miss Dinsmore’s lover made his appear- 
ance, — a Mr. Goiiverneur Van Kort, called, by his sweet- 
heart and all his friends, “ Van,” without further cere- 
mony. He was not much taller than she, very fair, with 
pale eyes and pale hair, and a dainty mustache, which I 
suspect was dyed a little, as it was of quite a commenda- 
ble brown, and improved his general appearance vastly. 
His features were small, his hands and feet exquisite. 
For gloves he wore ladies’ sevens, and was duly proud. 
He belonged to one of the first families. His sister had 
married a Roman count. His father was to settle on him, 
or on them^ when they were married, five thousand a 3^ear, 
and they were to go abroad immediately. 

Mr. Van Kort had no r’s and an aristocratic drawl. 
Then he always said “ that pehson,” if an individual was 
not sufiSciently high in position to be indulged with a 
name. Aunt Clara treated him like a foohsh little boy, 
which he really appeared to fike. The new partner in the 
firm was a Van Kort, a cousin it seemed ; but, if this was 
a specimen of the family, I thought they could not be 
worth much in the way of business. 

Rose seemed to adore him, although she privately con- 
fided to Theo that she had been engaged twice before ; 
but neither of the lovers was as rich as Van; and she 
must go to Paris, dear Paris, on her bridal tour. 

136 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


137 


“ A mild, beaming young idiot, utterly free from such 
an ordinary endowment as common sense,” declared Theo. 
“ Chris, it makes me blush all over to think such people 
go abroad, and are taken for typical Americans. How can 
aunt Clara tolerate him ? and how did she come to have 
such a foolish daughter as Rose? ” 

Rose was of the gushing, fluffy, infantile type, who 
look up, and smile blandly in your face. Oddly enough, 
her sister, who was not quite sixteen, was so differ- 
ent. Miss Blanche was taller, thin, and rather sour- 
looking, and set up for a genius. She read histories, and 
frowned on novels : she stumbled over German, and ab- 
horred French, “which mamma insisted upon her study- 
ing ; but it was too trifling for any strong, intellectual mind. 
Give her those profound German thinkers ! ” Water-color- 
ing, and dabbing with a pencil as she contemptuously 
termed sketching, did very well for children ; but hers were 
all studies from cartoons of the old masters. A leg, with 
a foot out of aU proportion, and some enormous toes, or a 
wiry hand with spider-like fingers outstretched, a bit of 
arm with a great bundle of muscles, and ugly faces that 
w^ere caricatures, she displayed as her interpretations of 
true art. She insisted that she was near-sighted, and wore 
glasses ; but aunt Clara would not allow them in a general 
way. She was not out, of course, and kept ostentatiousl}^ 
close to her “ study ” 

But it was gay and delightful. Military men were 
coming and going, with their picturesque uniforms, their 
proud and elegant carriage. I used to think of our poor 
private digging in trenches, marching through swamps, 
and fighting his country's battles. God saw him, and 
took note of the otherwise unseen heroism ; but sometimes 
I was jealous for his sake. 

We had spent a week of our stay. Theo and I had 
talked her matters over, and she had decided to give up 
Mr. Ross. She could do it much better by letter, she 


138 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


thought. The missive certainly was a very sensible one ; 
and she enclosed the ring. 

“ Free once more ! ” she declared with a laugh. 

Strange to sa^^, Theo did not flirt half as much as Rose, 
with her lover at her very elbow. Even here, in her sim- 
ple dresses, Theo was ver}^ attractive ; and every evening 
there was a group of young men around her. She laughed 
and talked with that merry audacity so far removed from 
sentimentalism. Her slender, dimpled hands were no 
more to be kissed than her cheek. She seemed to keep 
the instinct of self-possession before her always : it sur- 
rounded her with a flne, almost invisible wall, until some 
one attempted to scale it. 

We were in the sitting-room one morning. Rose and 
Van had gone out in the pony phaeton ; and Theo was 
altering a pretty lace flchu for aunt Clara, who said her 
taste was equal to that of a French woman. 

“ Oh, bother 1 some callers,” she said, as Jane entered 
with cards. 

“ Only Miss Henderson and her brother ; and she said, 
wouldn’t you let her come right in? ” repeated Jane. 

“ Why, yes. — Girls, do not lose your hearts,” with a 
laughing nod to us. 

She greeted the new-comers with a certain degree of 
cordiality : she had diflferent shades of society style for 
different people. 

“My nieces, the Misses Durant, — Miss Henderson, 
Mr Henderson.” 

Mr. Henderson might have been twenty-six, — a hand- 
some, stjdish fellow, with violet-blue e3^es, elegant silken 
blond beard, fair skin, and light wavy hair. His clothes, 
a summer neglige suit, hung about him with the grace of 
Greek drapery. I am aware that is extravagant, but it is 
the truth. Once in a great while j^ou see a man who 
seems to idealize the prosaic male habiliments of the nine- 
teenth century ; and Mr. Henderson did this. The ridicu- 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


139 


lous wonder entered my mind, if men ever asked him the 
name of his tailor. 

Miss Henderson was plain, irregular, mismatched, hut 
very jolly-looking. The celestial tendency to her nose 
was piquant ; her wide mouth shut with a great laughing 
dimple in the corner ; and the middle of her under lip had 
a saucy pout. Her eyes were a funny brown, — one a 
little deeper than the other ; her hair a red brown ; her 
complexion rather fair and freckled ; her teeth small, white, 
and baby-like. I think it must have taken more than the 
usual number to fill the spacious mouth. 

“ My dear Mrs. Durant, how thankful I am that you 
admitted me without any ceremony ! We’re just on the 
fly, Reggy and I ; but I wanted to stop a minute. He’s 
to go ofl* somewhere to make sketches ; and I’m to write 
up gayeties, nonsense, and bon-mots. We have army corre- 
spondence by the bushel ; but the thing was getting heavy, 
you see, and we must have a little mental champagne to 
keep up our spirits until this cruel war is over. ‘ So,’ says 
Mr. Bailey, ‘here’s an opportunity for you, Mollie, to 
distinguish yourself. Give us something bright, if you 
have to manufacture every word of it.’ — ‘ That I can do, 
and glad of the chance,’ says I ; and off we started. We are 
to take a bird’s-eye view of West Point, and go on as far 
as Lake George. Reggy is to do sketching for ‘ The 
Illustrated Star : ’ I’m to write up descriptions, and 
somehow concoct old Revolutionary soul-stirring scenes. 
And here you are, lilies of the field, arrayed every night 
gorgeously, with no end of Solomons to behold your 
glory, I suppose.” 

She uttered it all in a breath. It seemed to me I had 
never heard so rapid a talker. Her voice, too, was like 
herself, round, mellow, with just the touch of absurdity 
that makes you laugh, whether the utterance is especially 
mirth-provoking or not. 

Aunt Clara asked her to take off her hat, and stay to 


140 


EEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


luncheon. It was an invitation that was meant. And 
would she not go up stairs ? They were rather circum- 
scribed here ; but still they could ofler a little comfort, if 
not elegance. 

“Yes, I might go up, and puU myself together. We 
started off in a hurry. But then I always do.” 

She looked as if she might be continually pulling her- 
self together, and as continually falling apart. Her favor- 
ite panacea for aU ills that attire is heir to was sticking 
in a pin, as I afterward learned. The pins dropped out. 
Panaceas are very apt to have a weak side. 

Still she appeared fresher and cleaner when she came 
down, and in a moment it seemed as if we were all laugh- 
ing and talking. She was undeniably bright, and not 
merely superficial. She rattled off facts, incidents, 
seemed to know ever^^body and every thing. 

Eose came in just as we were about to sit down. I knew 
in a moment that Eeggy Henderson had been one of her 
admirers. Then and there I gave up my girhsh enthusi- 
asm for the name of Reginald. I knew Theo had an incli- 
nation to rhyme it to sedgy and hedgy. 

Shortly after lunch, they took up their march with a 
small Russia leather satchel, which had been very hand- 
some in its day. We were invited most cordially to call 
upon them. Indeed, I was oddly interested in Miss Hen- 
derson. She had seen so many notable people ! 

“They are very peculiar,” said aunt Clara, “and are 
really on the borders of Bohemia ; yet the girls go in a 
great deal of nice society. Their mother is very elegant 
(she was a Fairfax of Virginia) : and Mr. Henderson’s 
father left him a handsome fortune ; but he seems to have 
run through with it all, except the house in which they live, 
and that I have understood he cannot touch. The girls 
somehow manage to support the family.” 

“ But the young man? ” and I looked up in surprise. 

“ He and his father are simply ornamental. He has a 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


141 


studio, which is quite an attractive place of resort, danger- 
ously so to foolish young women. Perhaps by hard work 
he might become an artist, — I don’t know ; but he is too 
indolent for any real exertion. I dare say his sister will 
do all his sketches. One sister has a fine voice ; and — 
well, they live some way, and do manage to give charming 
entertainments.” 

Eose finished up the character-sketching. 

“ Isn’t he just too handsome for any thing? ” she said 
that night as we were going to bed. Our rooms connected 
with a door that stood open most of the time for the circu- 
lation of air ; and she ran back and forth incessantly. 
“He did love me, and he makes love like an angel. I 
have cut out stacks of girls ” (Miss Rose was off of her 
society pedestal, and out of her mother’s hearing now) ; 
“and it’s such fun! Of course I knew from the very 
beginning, it would not do ; for he has nothing at all, and, 
as mamma sa3"s, ‘ must marry some rich woman.’ But I 
don’t think there is any need of his marrying at all, for 
the present. He’s such an immense favorite ! and, oh, an 
elegant dancer ! Doesn’t he dress divinely? Reall}^, of 
all my lovers, I believe I shall regret him the longest. If 
I were a great heiress, no other woman should have him ; 
but I cannot think of taking poverty with any man.” 

I looked intently at the small edition of worldly wis- 
dom. Did it make no difference to her whom she married ? 

Theo spoke of it afterward. 

“ It is so queer ! I can imagine Mr. Henderson’s love- 
making might be fascinating, if he could once get roused 
and animated. And then to take up with that little, 
drawling, insignificant Van! Yet aunt Clara is real sen- 
sible about it. They are excellently matched. Only it 
puzzles me to see her ^field her preference in that serene 
and amiable manner, as if it were gloves, for instance, and 
she took the cream, because the}^ were stitched with black.” 

We were to throw the next bomb-shell into the camp. 


142 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Rose came flying up stairs. We were dressing to go 
out in state, in the large carriage. 

“You naughty, deceitful Theo ! ” she cried vehe- 
mently. “ Here I’ve told you all about my lovers, and 
you never said a word. And there’s the most elegant 
man down stairs, with wild, sad black eyes, that are 
enough to break any one’s heart. Oh ! you need not turn 
pale : I shall flirt with him all the same — or is it 
because I’ve found you out? And it was such a funny 
blunder ! Jane didn’t suppose a gentleman could call on 
any one else : so she summoned me. And there he stood 
by the table, tall and splendid ; and I didn’t know him 
from Adam. But I supposed I must have met him some- 
where, and I went quite up ; but he glanced at me so — 
so — I suppose he was surprised. And then he asked if 
he could see Miss Durant ; and I wanted to know which 
Miss Durant ; and he said, ‘ Miss Theo ; ’ and he looked, 
oh, so unutterable ! ” — 

“What nonsense. Rose! ’’broke in Theo in a vexed 
tone. “If it is any one for me, I hope he had the polite- 
ness to send up his name.” 

“ He did. Miss Durant. First he said, ‘ an old friend : ’ 
so you see that was a tacit admission that the aflTair had 
been going on for some time. Then he said, ‘ Mr. Ross.’ ” 

Theo was tr3dng hard to keep the scarlet out of her 
face. I could see she was very much annoyed. She 
finished her dressing, and went down without another 
word. 

“Tell me all about it,” cried Rose, appealing to me. 
“ I do think Theo can be the crossest, without saying a 
word.” 

“ There is nothing much to tell. Mr. Ross is — well, 
we met him at a party last winter ; and he has visited us 
since ” — 

“ It’s Theo : 3^011 cannot deceive me.” 

“ Well, he asked Theo to marry him ; and she de- 
clined,” I answered impatiently. 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


143 


“ Oh ! I knew there was something, he looked so 
romantically sad. And now he has come to make her 
marry him, whether or no. They always do so in 
stories.’’ 

“ Eose, do not be so foolish ! ” I said sharply. 

“ Is he rich? ” 

Ah! Then my ill-humor vanished, and I felt like 
laughing, albeit I was stUl provoked. 

“ He is not rich.” 

Aunt Clara entered at that instant. Eose blurted out 
the whole matter in a moment. 

“We will wait a little while,” she announced pleas- 
antly. “Lulu, can’t you find Willie, and send him out to 
Mike ? TeU him to wait fifteen minutes.” 

I hunted up my hat and gloves. Aunt Clara asked me 
a few polite questions concerning Mr. Eoss. 

“Look out, Chrissie,” she said good-naturedly, “or 
she will go ofi* the first.” 

I flushed a little, but made no reply. 

The fifteen minutes elapsed. The carriage came slowly 
around. 

Theo made her appearance, looking flushed and dis 
concerted. 

“Aunt Clara,” she began in her frank, ladylike man- 
ner, “ there is a friend of mine down stairs, who came 
very unexpectedly.” 

“ And you would like me to see him? ” with a smile. 

“ Will you come down, please? ” and there was relief 
in Theo’s tone. 

“ Oh, I do so hope he will stay ! ” cried Eose. 

It ended by his going out with us : so Eose had her 
chance to see him, and made herself vastly agreeable, in 
her own estimation. I think, in his heart, Mr. Eoss set 
her down for a little simpleton. I really wondered how 
a woman with such good sense and judgment could have 
reared a daughter in such an utterly useless and vapid 


144 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


manner. Tlieo sat there, elegant, stately, reserved. I do 
believe aunt Clara admired her very much. 

Mr. Ross remained to dinner, spent the evening, went 
to a hotel and staid all night, and devoted the next day 
to us. He had resolved to win Theo. He showed his 
love, not obtrusively, but with the indefinable httle touches 
of old-world politeness. 

“ I have made him a promise,** said Theo when he was 
gone, “ or I do not know but he might have staid for- 
ever. I am to be engaged for a month, and to try to 
hke him. Then, if I can’t, he will relinquish me to my 
own old-maid devices.** 

There was a weary look in her face, that I did not like. 
I noticed, too, that she wore the ring. 

“ Oh! ** said Rose, espying it. “An opal is very un- 
lucky. Did you not know that? I should be afraid the 
engagement might — weU, be broken, you know. And I 
would not have taken any thing less than a solitaire 
diamond.** 

“Well, I rather like an opal,** returned Theo: “it is 
so different from the stereotyped diamonds and pearls.** 

Rose confided to me, that Mr. Ross “looked like a 
hero out of a book, and was awfully fond of Theo ; but 
she thought him something of a stick.** 

Our stay drew to a close. Some other visitors were to 
replace us. 

“We shall go on a little jaunt early in September, but 
return home by the middle of the month, I think. You 
and Theo must come and make us a visit,*’ said aunt 
Clara warmly. “ Come over some Friday, if you can do 
no better, and remain until Monday morning.’’ 

Then we kissed good-by, and set out for Northwood. 
It had been a gala time, — carriage-riding every day, din- 
ners, parties in the evening, and two hops, all the glo- 
ries of West Point right at our elbow. 

How delightful it was to have an abundance of thia 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


145 


world’s goods ! Why couldn’t papa have been prospered, 
I used to ask. He was so kind, so honest, and upright, 
using his little money and position so wisely ! And it 
really seemed as if uncle Robert, pleasant as he was, did 
not care for much beside his own advancement. 

It would soon be time for school again. A bit of good 
fortune befell me in this respect. A new grammar school 
had been built in our part of the city, and I had applied 
for a position. I learned that I had been appointed, with 
a salary of four hundred. I should save considerable in 
car-fare. 

Out of our five hundred dollars, papa had spent nearly 
a hundred in his journeying ; and two hundred had been 
laid by for interest, taxes, and insurance. Six months’ 
household expenses had come out of the other. Mother 
had managed wonderfully, on twent 3 '-five dollars a month. 
Our coal was put in ; but she had only paid little more 
than half the bill, and we had just twenty dollars to begin 
September with. Our winter vegetables and butter were 
provided for, as father had taken them in exchange for 
labor. Were we coming to absolute poverty? 

Eight dollars a week, — how large it looked to me ! 
We would not starve, anyhow. 1 could stand in the 
':reach. 


CHAPTER Xm. 

•' Shall I enforce thy love 7 I could. Shall I entreat thy love 7 I 
will.” — Love’s Labor Lost. 

“I AM not going to school any more,*’ announced 
Della the very last day of vacation. “ I shall be sixteen 
in three months. And, mother and Chris, — if you would 
but consent to my plans ! ** 

We both glanced up at our third daughter. She was 
quite tall, a fair, nice-looking girl, but not with Theo’s 
bewitching prettiness. 

“ You know I spent the day with Mrs. Palmer last 
week? ** 

“ Yes.** I can guess what is coming ; but mother looks 
puzzled. 

“ We talked it over. I am not much of a student. I 
could enter the high school ; but there would be three or 
four years : and all this time I must bOv clothed, without 
earning a penny. Mrs. Palmer said she would take me in 
the store and teach me millinery, and I could do fancy- 
work. She will pay me three dollars a week all winter, 
and give me four next spring. Her niece has gone to 
Philadelphia as a hospital nurse, you know. I think it*s 
just a fortunate chance : I must do something.** 

“And I?’* says Theo, springing up from the sofa, and 
uttering a strange, pathetic cry, — “am I never to do 
any thing but just hang, a millstone round every one’s 
neck? ” 


146 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


147 


“ O Theo ! ” That is mamma’s soft, deprecating voice, 
expressing so much ! 

“You are so good at home, Theo!” rephes Dell, in a 
patronizing way that is rather funny from the httle girl in 
the family. “You can cook and sew and — I’m sure 
you are never idle. But I like business. And we all think 
Mrs. Palmer so nice ! ” 

It was true enough. Mrs. Palmer was a “ war widow,” 
had been one of the earliest. With her little money she 
had opened a store, as her young girl business had been 
millinery. She did a good deal of elegant fancy-work, 
and machine- sewing beside, and had gained quite a posi- 
tion already. 

Dell had firaily made up her mind. We offered a little 
weak opposition at first, then consented. She would 
have to join the army of workers. We could afford to 
keep only one girl at home. 

Mother went to see Mrs. Palmer, and the bargain was 
concluded. She was very fond of Dell. 

Father returned, looking quite well, and really hand- 
some. If he could only find emplojunent ! He tried for 
a fortnight, and then took some collecting. 

I liked my new school very much. Being near home, it 
gave me more time. 

We discussed the project of going on a farm. Father 
had an opportunity to trade the house for a small farm ; 
and it seemed now, as prices were going higher aU the 
time, that farming would really pay. 

Our house was considered worth five thousand. 
Whether it would bring that in these depressed times was 
a question. The country-house was old, considerably out 
of repair, two-story, with eight rooms, no furnace, no 
gas, no paved walks, but an abundance of fruit and a 
shackly old barn. 

“ A woman’s farm-work is pretty hard,” said mother. 
“We should keep one or two cows, and there would be 


148 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


milking night and morning, churning, poultry to care for, 
and a good deal of gardening. Chrissie could not teach 
there, and could she earn four hundred dollars? Then 
Dell would have to help me, and must have her clothes 
somehow. I don’t believe we should make as much actu- 
al money, and we would not have as many comforts. To 
be sure, there would be the long delightful summers in the 
country.” 

“ I do not believe it would be practicable,” confessed 
papa with a sigh. 

We girls decided that we did not want to go. 

“ And, when Archie comes home, he can help a little,” 
said mother brightly. “We will economize; and you 
must not go into any very hard work until you are quite 
strong again. 

Mr. Sargent was married, and brought his wife to 
Northwood. Miss Wilbur pronounced her an elegant and 
superior woman. I took some pains to keep out of their 
way. For a while they boarded at the Mansion House, 
as our best family hotel was called. 

Meanwhile what of Theo and Mr. Ross? He stiU came. 
Sometimes Theo wore her ring, but she was oftener with- 
out. Now and then she broke out into a tempest of gayety 
and flirtation, then she was demure as a nun. Mr. Ross 
was so patient, so generous, that I began to feel sorry for 
him when Theo was in her wilful moods. One evening he 
tried to restrain her a little, and incidentally referred to 
something he could or would do, with an air of authority. 

“ I will tell you what you can do ; ” and Theo gave a 
light, bitter laugh. “You can leave the house, and never 
come into it again. You worry my life out with your love 
and your care, and everj^ thing. It stifles me ; it kills me ! 
A lifetime of it would set me crazy. Go!” And she 
stamped her foot, while her eyes fairly blazed. 

He rose slowly, said good-evening in the quietest of 
tones, and went out. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


149 


“There, it is all over! Chris, am I a termagant, a 
sharp, ungrateful vixen? Why do people love and care 
for me? When they stay at a distance, I like them pretty 
well : when they come near — well, sometimes I hate them ; 
yes, I really do. Was there ever an instance, think, of 
one being born an old maid from the very beginning ? I 
must have been, I believe. But isn’t it queer how quick 
he took it, how he marched off in high disdain ! Was he 
very angr}', I wonder? ” And her voice began to fall a 
little from its shrill ke}", and take on a tremulous quiver. 
“ Do 3’ou suppose he loves me very much^ Chris? I hope 
not. If he onl^' would take to some one else ! ” 

Then she threw herself on the sofa, buried her face in 
the pillow, and sobbed softl3^ 

“O Theo 1 ” Could I comfort her? Did she love him? 
“I am glad it is all at an end,” she began presently. 
“ I shall never have another lover, Chris, never. And 
now I am going to turn over a new leaf. I mean to prac- 
tise m3’ music, and see if I cannot get a few scholars. 
The discipline will be good, and the money will be better. 
I can’t consent to be the 01113’ drone in the hive, when 3’ou 
and Della are working so industriously.” 

“ Wh3^, 3’ou do work,” I replied energetically. “ See 
what 3’OU save me in hats and dresses, and how much 
3’OU help mother ! One pair of hands could not do all the 
work of this famity.” 

“I am glad 3^011 think me of some use, Chris. If I 
should — well,” with a kind of h3’sterical laugh, — “if 
I should marry, and go away with some one, I hope 3’ou 
would miss me a httle. I should like to think that some 
one said, ‘ Dear Theo’s fingers did this or that, or she 
said thus and so.’ I cannot bear the idea of being quite 
forgotten. I wonder if an3’ one would ever be foolish 
enough to — to kiss a little ribbon, for instance, that some 
other body had worn, and tied in a cunning little bow, 
or to read over the poems one had loved, when that one 
was miles and miles away? ” 


150 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ How queer you are talking, Theo, for a girl who 
does not intend to marry ! 

“ Oh, yes ! ” in a kind of absent way, her eyes seeming 
to look into the future. “ I am queer and flighty. Next 
thing I’ll be having spells, like Mrs. Sandborn.” 

Mrs. Sandborn still indulged in her periodical “mys- 
teries.” Mr. Sandborn had been drafted, and did really 
want to go to war : indeed, would have enlisted at first, 
if she had not ‘ ‘ gone on ” so terribly. When she heard 
of the result of the draft, she just passed from one swoon 
to another, called in the neighbors and several doctors, 
and lay at the point of death, until her husband promised 
to get a substitute. Having no ready money, he was 
compelled to mortgage his house ; but his whole heart 
went out to the brave men who were struggling for their 
country’s weal. 

Afterward I came to know that it was not the change 
and absence of marriage that was in Theo’s mind this 
evening. 

“ The best thing, Theo, is to go to bed, and get a httle 
tranquillized,” I replied: so we shut up the parlor, and 
betook ourselves to our room. 

Why was Theo so different from most girls? for she 
was, as I well understood. I began to envy real com- 
monplace people, and wish somehow that she — no, I 
didn’t want her changed, either. If only — ah, how 
much of anxious desire those two words may comprehend ! 

We went to bed. I was healthily and unromantically 
sleep3\ Theo lay veiy quiet, save that I could hear her 
heart beat, as if it were under my very pillow. 

“What is the matter, dear?” I asked presently. 
“ Are 3’ou unhapp}'? ” 

“My darling!” She turned, and kissed me in the 
dark. “ No, I am not unhappy. I ought to have some 
compunctions of conscience ; ” and she gives the old, gay, 
mischievous laugh, by which I knew her sweet temper is 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


151 


quite restored. “ But if one could learn in some way, 
Chris, just what God meant to have one do. It puzzles 
me so. There must be some design in it all. When so 
many things point in one direction, it seems as if the way 
was plain ; but is it the right way? Can one judge simply 
from the personal desire ? Some one said ‘ Duty was the 
thing that you did not want to do, but that was put 
straight in your way.’ Is it, I wonder? ” 

“ I do not think it means marriage, Theo.” 

“ Yet how many women would, if they had listened to 
the promptings of their hearts, have married unworthily 
and wrongly ! You pray to be shown a way, and, if one 
opens before you, how decide that it is of God? ” 

“ I do not know how we can be sure.” 

I said this solemnly, and in no cavilling frame of mind. 
Is it that the mistakes are given to us also, not that we 
went into them by fault, or shortsightedness, but that the 
discipline was simply the living out of them ? 

“ Pray that I may be right, Chris. The rest I shall 
not trouble about.” 

“You were right, Theo, to give him up. I do not 
believe you would have been really happy with him.” 

She was not looking at it in this view ; but I did not 
know then. 

Is there some fatal strength in circumstances ? and must 
one go on straight in the path of destiny ? These questions 
confuse and stagger me. 

We were at dinner the next day, when aunt Hetty came 
in. Some friend of hers, quite out in the suburbs, had 
been buried that morning ; “ and though she could just as 
well have ridden clear home in the coach,” she thought 
she would stop. “We girls had grown so grand since 
uncle Robert’s folks had taken us to West Point, that 
we didn’t notice plain people like her. We couldn’t drop 
in and be sociable any more.” 

“We have been very busy,” answered Theo and 
now Chrissie’s school doesn’t take her down town.” 


152 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“And now you’re getting a large salary, Chrissie. 
Uncle read it in the paper. You can lay up two hundred 
dollars a year, at least. I never spent even two hundred 
a year, when I was a girl.” 

‘ ‘ Every thing has changed so much since we were 
girls, Hetty!” said mother mildly. “Chrissie does a 
good deal in the family. Since father’s sickness, she has 
been a great help to me ; had to take Archie’s place, in 
fact. And, being in school every day, she must look 
trim and tidy. Dress-goods are very high, too : so she 
doesn’t expect to lay up a fortune.” 

“Why, I^ve given three and six a yard for a print 
dress when I was young, and now the}^ are twenty and 
twenty-five cents ; and a dollar a yard for ribbon to go 
on my hat, but it lasted two summers, and then I had it 
dipped for winter : and you wouldn’t believe the wear I 
had out of that ribbon. I remember taking the last of it 
to line a muff. But then we kept our clothes nice, and 
didn’t expect to put ’em on, every tack and turn.” 

“ Country and city life are quite different, as well as 
the times.” 

“ I don’t know what we will come to if the war doesn’t 
end. And Robert’s making lots of money, I hear. Some 
people are lucky. — O Theo ! ” veering round suddenty, 
“ I heard you had a beau. Miss Giddings told Martha. 
A real splendid fellow, she said, boarding at the Hudsons, 
and that Miss Hudson would give her two ej^es for him. 
I always said to uncle you wasn’t made so good-looking 
for nothing. Now, I hope you’ll have a little common 
sense, and not fly right in the face of Protydence, as Chris 
did. I declare, I can’t get over it I She might just as 
well have had a nice house of her own, and been in the 
Miller family. Not but what Martha likes her new sister- 
in-law well enough ; and she isn’t so dreadfully stuck up 
as one would expect, but not much of a beauty. I do 
want see some of these girls married. What will your 
mother do with three old maids? ” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


153 


‘‘ The same as I did with three little girls,” answered 
mother with a smile. 

I went off to school, and left aunt Hetty talking. 
When I came home, Theo had gone out to do some errands 
and to see a sick friend. It blew up rather cloudy and 
gusty in the evening ; and suddenly there was a downpour 
of rain. 

“ I do hope Theo is safe,” said mother. 

She came in presently with an attendant, whom she 
ushered into the parlor. The door happened to be shut 
between : so I did not catch the voice. I went up to my 
room to answer a few notes that lay heavy on my con- 
science. One was from Georgie Curtis, now married, 
with the best and dearest husband and the sweetest baby. 
If ever I married, — was she doubtful? — she hoped I 
would find such a husband. I had no idea what true 
happiness was ; and so on, ad nauseam. Mr. Danforth at 
the beginning of the war had raised a regiment, and 
offered it to his country. He had been wounded once, but 
was now back again ; and Mrs. Danforth had done some 
army nursing. 

Theo ran up stairs about half-past nine. She had a 
curious, flushed, dazzling look in her face, as she came 
and stood directly before me. Was it the radiance of 
happiness ? 

Then she holds out her hand. There is Mr. Rosses 
opal ring encircling her Anger. 

“OTheo!” 

My head is in a whirl. There is a sudden sensation 
that one has in taking ether. I feel as if I were going 
backwards, down some endless precipice. 

“ Yes. It is all settled. We are regularly engaged. 
There is to be no more quarrelling, no more flu’ting, no 
more — any thing. The world has come to an end.” Is 
that awesome tone really hers ? 

“ But — Theo.” I know my eyes revolve wildly. 


154 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ I think it was to be — one of those things marked out 
from the beginning. For two daj^s I tried to go to poor 
Saidie Weston’s ; but something prevented. Yesterday 
she had a weak spell, and couldn’t have seen any one for 
ten minutes : to-day she insisted on my taking tea with her 
in her room. We had quite a gay little feast. I said 
good-by, and started. There was a slight sprinkle blow- 
ing out of the clouds. I ran down to the corner, and saw 
the car going up the street. I hate standing on the cor- 
ners at night : so I stepped into the drug-store to wait my 
ten minutes. Half of it had gone, when the door opened, 
and Mr. Ross entered. It gave me such a curious feeling, 
Chris ! My arms dropped at my side, with the sensation 
of a prisoner who surrenders. Yet we did not speak. 
When the car came up, it was pouring like a deluge. He 
held his umbrella over me, stepped into the car, paid fare 
for two with the deliberation of happier times, stopped at 
the right place, and escorted me to my own roof- tree dry 
and safe. All this time I was thinking of my shameful 
behavior of last night. I did act like a fiend or a fish- 
woman. No, I wasn’t profane : so the fiend will do. I 
was very thoroughly ashamed, and felt that I never 
should respect myself until I had apologized. I’m not a 
moral coward, if I have a quick temper. So I said my 
little say ; and he asked if he might not come in and talk 
it all over. I must have dreamed it before, Chris ; for I 
knew just how every thing was going to happen, and it 
made no difference whether I promised to marry him now, 
or six months hence. I could not run away from destiny. 
Fate had caught me, and held me in a tight clutch. When 
he was aU through, I tested his affection by two questions ; 
and they were both answered satisfactorily. I think he 
loves me with his whole heart and soul.” 

“But you!” I cry, — “are not your wishes to be 
taken into account? ” 

“ Cl^issie, I do believe I love him as well as I shall 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


155 


ever love any one. He has some of the ways I like. He 
is clean and neat as a pin, — think of having a slovenly 
man around! — he does not even smoke; is temperate, 
frugal, industrious ; and, O Chris I so deliciously kind. 
If I were going to be sick a long while, I would not ask 
a better nurse. I am not romantic or sentimental: I 
cannot get up to glowing heights. Marriage seems quite 
an every-day business, after all. You really do have to 
think where you will live afterwards, and how much you 
can afford to spend a week. The engagement is to be 
brief. If everybody consents, we shall be married this 
fall.’’ Her voice breaks off sharp and cold. 

“ O Theo I it can’t be. We never were so poor in all 
our lives. What will you do for wedding-clothes ? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know. Providence, who seems to have 
brought this about, will show us a way ; or if there is no 
way, why, then it cannot be done ; that is all. And now I 
believe I will go to bed : I’m deadly tired.” 

“ Tell me one thing first. Are you very happy? ” 

I look into her eyes, as the angel may look at the day 
of judgment. They do not droop, nor stare, nor laugh 
with that mirthful mischief, but are solemn, and holding 
something in their far depths that I cannot see. 

“ O God ! ” I pray with a swift breath, “ if it is not 
right, do not let this thing happen.” 

It is so strange for the next two or three days! 
Father and mother talk it over. Theo hunts up the let- 
ters of recommendation that have never been used, and 
begs father to write. Mr. Ross has made no secret of 
his standing, or his fi:iends in the old country. They are 
plain working-people, the brothers doing business in a 
small way, the mother able to spell correctly, and write a 
very nice letter to her son. The sister’s husband in Aus- 
traha is getting rich. 

“ I wonder if you will ever go back to England,” says 
Theo, one evening. 


156 


FROM HAISTD TO MOUTH. 


“I” — and he starts with a sudden flush. “Would 
you like to go? ” 

“ I think — yes, I do believe I should,” nodding her 
head gayly, — “ if I were not seasick.” 

“No doubt we shall go some time,” he replies quietly. 

The answers come to the letters. The gentlemen in 
Philadelphia in whose employ Mr. Ross spent four years 
found him a steady, honest, faithful man. He had no 
bad habits or bad associates. At one time they had 
talked of taking him into business. But reverses followed, 
and they were compelled to make an entire change. So 
with the other epistle. He spent his flrst year in Brook- 
lyn, and goes there occasionally ; but it is not likely that 
twelve months has in it any thing to change a person’s 
opinion. He was so young when he came, — only twenty- 
three, — and has not broken with or forgotten his family. 

“A faultless monster!” laughs Theo. “Even his 
washerwoman declares that he is a gentleman ; for he 
once overpaid her, and wouldn’t take it back. If he were 
only worth a milhon now ! Is that to be classed as a 
fault, or misfortune? ” 

“ Theo, I don’t like to hear you talk in that way,” says 
mother in a soft, chiding voice. “ One need not be 
ashamed of honest poverty.” 

“ My dear mamma, poverty is, like some of the other 
valuable virtues, heroic in talk, but quite commonplace 
in daily experience. We can admire the beggar dividing 
his crust ; but there is nothing poetical in hunting up the 
cheapest butcher, or making over old dresses, or even 
warming up yesterday’s dinner. Yet such things are 
done, and we still hve.” 

So we settle to Theo’s engagement without any fuss. 
She has decided to board home until spring. 

“ Mrs. Hudson will board us for ten dollars a week, if 
I look after my own room,” sa^^s Theo in a severely 
practical tone. “ Now, this will be something in our 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


157 


family income. Our washing will be from one to two dol- 
lars a week ; and that will serve to pay our woman. Then 
father will not feel so troubled and anxious. And Chris, 
you old dear, you will not be compelled to supply me 
with pocket-money. I shouldn’t wonder if I treated you 
to a car-ride now and then, or a plate of cream.” 

In truth, there was the utmost need of considering. 
During the four weeks father had been collecting, and 
canvassing for advertisements, he had made just thirty- 
tw'o dollars. Would times ever come good, we wondered. 
Once he said he had half a mind to enlist for the sake of 
the bounty. I do believe, if he had been well and strong, 
he would have gone. 

Everybody economized — except army contractors. 
Their famihes flaunted in diamonds and velvet, while the 
wives and children of some of the poor soldiers almost 
starved, on their miserable pittance for tent-making, and 
various other employments. 

Archie kept well, and had been promoted for meritori- 
ous conduct. It wasn’t much, to be sure, and he had been 
proud of doing his duty as a private. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


“ Avaunt perplexity ! "What shall we do ? ” 

Love’s Labor Lost. 

We had a note from aunt Clara, saying Rose was to be 
married the last of October. It would be a grand private 
wedding. Wouldn’t Theo and I be sure to come? 

We had been down one Saturday to lunch and dinner, 
and had a lovely drive in the park. Could we not come 
down again? This particular Saturday there would be 
some friends in to luncheon, and she thought we would 
have a pleasant time. 

Dressed in our very best, we went. Uncle Robert’s 
new house was handsome and commodious, and beautifully 
furnished. Rose was in a wild flutter, and must show 
and explain. 

“ It will be a gaslight wedding at eleven, a.m., precisely. 
Just one bridesmaid. Van’s cousin : he has no end of them. 
We are to stand here,” — designating the lower end of 
the parlor. “ It is all to be draped with lace and flowers, 
like a little temple. Then the family — there’s a fearful 
raft of the Van Korts, and I have relations on the Dins- 
more and Burtis side. But mamma thought we ought to 
compliment the Durants, and I really did want you two. 
Theo must be dressed in white, over some tint. You 
ought to have a pretty silk. At half-past eleven we are 
to sit down to the wedding-breakfast ; and at two I must 
be down to the steamer. Miss Eliza Van Kort is going 
over with us, — another of the cousins, quite an old maid. 

158 


FKOM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


159 


Most of my trousseau is to be bought in Paris, duties 
are so fearfully high now ! Then I think shopping will be 
ever so much more fun. Just think of running about in 
the Rue This or That, and buying every thing you want. 
Won’t it be splendid? ” 

She paused to draw breath. For a moment I was 
tempted to envy her. 

Then we listened to a description of the wedding-dress, 
— white satin and point lace, veil and orange-flowers. 
Here were her diamonds, — a present from old Mr. Van 
Kort. She should wear the ear-rings, the necklace, and 
bracelets, when she was married. Mother didn’t want her 
to, but Van did ; and she was resolved to look “ perfectly 
gorgeous.” Here were a few gifts ; but they hadn’t begun 
to come in yet. She hoped she would have oceans of 
them, and ever so many in pretty things that she cqpld 
wear. 

An hour on this subject was rather tiresome. I hailed 
the advent of the lunch-party. A voice sounded in the 
hall. I knew it in a moment, — Miss Molhe Henderson, 
the irrepressible, more shaken together than ever, but this 
time in a brown silk. Mrs. Rutherford, — and she I found 
had been the senior Miss Henderson, and the victim of 
an unfortunate marriage. She resembled her handsome 
brother, and had an air of languor and refinement that 
was quite captivating. I learned afterward that she was 
the singer. There was a younger one they called Percy. 

“ There are five girls in all ; but we never go out more 
than three strong. I don’t suppose any of us will ever get 
married; ” and Miss Mollie made a little moue, though 
her voice was hearty and good-humored. Portia made 
such a fiasco^ — married on, instead of off ; and Heaven 
knows we have enough to do to take care of ourselves. 
Thank fortune that Jack Rutherford went to war. If he 
only could go straight to glory ! ” 

“But what was the matter?” Then I blushed at 
«eeming so impertinent. 


160 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ Oh ! he was a gay young fellow, who had a tolerably 
rich mother. Between us both, I think she wanted to get 
him off her hands. She was immensely sweet on Portia 
until it was all over. It is just six years ago, and Portia 
was nineteen. Well, he drank and gambled, and was 
maudhn generally; and finally she shipped him, and he 
went to war. She has a lovely little daughter, though, 
and that’s six of us females ; only she’ll be Miss Ruther- 
ford.” 

“ What is Percy’s name? ” 

“Oh! Persephone. I have the only sensible name in 
the family ; but I was named after grandmother Fairfax, 
and she was always called Mollie. There’s Portia and 
Persephone and Josepha and Adrienne. O Miss Du- 
rant, I wish you would come and see us ! We do have 
real good times, though we cannot aspire to point and 
diamonds. Are you fond of pictures? We have some 
good ones, and, oh! loads of photographs of everybody. 
And mother has such lots of odd things ! Are you inter- 
ested in the Emperor Napoleon and Josephine? Mother 
will talk you deaf, dumb, and blind on the subject. She 
is writing a book : in fact, we are all writing books.” 

Van, Mr. Henderson, and a Mr. March comprised the 
gentlemen of the party ; and there was another 3"oung 
lad}^, who rarely spoke. The rest were gay enough, 
however. The luncheon was like a feast ; and we were 
waited upon by a very st^dish ^-oung colored lad, who had 
been in some great family. 

We sat at the table for nearly- two hours, laughing and 
talking. Mollie Henderson and I fell into quite a friend- 
ship. She was proud of being connected with a da% 
paper, and had an ambition to achieve some literary" 
distinction. Her book was to be sketches of character, — 
sharp, clever things, jolly, yet satirical. 

When we went to the drawing-room, Mrs. Rutherford 
sang. She did have a beautiful voice. I could have 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


161 


listened for hours. But they had to go ; and then we came 
back to wedding-finery, and what “Van and I” meant 
to do in Paris. It proved very tiresome at length. 

Blanche was at school : so we could not have her for a 
contrast. The younger children were kept in the nursery. 

Dinner was at six. Then uncle Robert took us down 
to the ferry in the carriage, escoi-ted us over, and put us 
in the cars. 

“ Theo,’’ I said, “ whatever can we do for dresses? ” 

“ I’ll consider the point. Don’t fret your careful soul 
until there is need.” 

Somehow it seemed real nice to get to our own quiet, 
tidy home, and hear mother’s soft voice after aU tl^ 
hubbub. 

During the week and a half that followed, Theo’s afiTain 
were decided. Mr. Ross petitioned for a marriage early 
in December : why should they go on waiting ? 

“I shall be glad to have it over,” declared Theo ; 
“ then we can settle down to regular living. I am going 
to stay at home six months, and I can do most of my 
sewing afterward.” 

“ Chris,” mother said one evening as we sat alone, “I 
have been thinking of Theo’s marriage. She, poor dear 
girl, would go to church in a calico gown with the utmost 
content. I am sorry that a wedding should come in just 
at this time, when we are so poor ; yet I do not see any 
immediate prospect of being richer. And now I have a 
plan to propose. I hope you will feel like consenting ; ” 
and she sighed softly. 

“Of course I shall,” I returned eagerly. 

“It is this. Della, you know, has not had her watch 
yet. The money was put in the bank when grandmother 
died ; and with the interest, and a trifle I have added, it is 
one hundred and fifty dollars. I want to use it for Theo’s 
outfit. Will you help me make it up again when times 
get a little better? It is a good deal to ask, when you 
are always doing so much.” 


162 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“O mamma, gladly!” and I kissed the hesitating, 
quivering lips. “You see it will not be so bad when 
Theo is really married. And father may find some open- 
ing. Then, if I did not repay it until next year, it would 
do.” 

“ I am so thankful to have you agree with me in this 
matter. And now you must help me manage, and think 
a little for me. Make out a list of outside garments that 
she ought to have : above all things, don’t say a word to 
her.” 

So I had my secret. 

“ Come up stairs, and view the wedding-clothes,” said 
Theo, the Monday before the grand afiair. 

I marched up to the spare room. I knew Theo was 
very busy ; but I had been bidden to ask no questions. 

There, on the spare-room bed, lay two dresses : one 
was a beautiful puffy tarlatan, made over what seemed a 
blossom-colored silk, with pale pink bows here and there, 
a pretty, low body, or corsage, and a dainty fichu full of 
delicate frills.” 

“O Theo! where did you get it?” I exclaimed. I 
had given her ten dollars, all I could spare ; and no silk 
garment could come out of that, I well knew. 

“Now look at yours.” 

Black lace made over white, the ribbons and garniture 
a soft bright blue. 

“ You are a marvel or a witch ; repeat the incantation. 
I know this black lace flounce is the border of mother’s 
mantle.” 

“ And the top of the skirt is yours. Then I happened 
to find this figured lace in a store ; and, as it was old-fash- 
ioned, I bought it cheap. It was just what I wanted. 
The foundation of your dress is your white alpaca. It 
wasn’t much work you see ; only to trim it over.” 

What dainty, pretty bows ! What airy, fluffy puffs ! 
What taste and elegance altogether I 


PROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


163 


“ Now let me put on mine.” 

It was almost like Cinderella attiring herself for the 
baU. 

“ But I don’t understand this pink, I don’t know what 
to call it.” And I know I looked puzzled. 

She laughed gayly. 

“ Why, it looks like silk ; doesn’t it? ” 

“Yes,” in an incredulous manner. 

“ Feel of it, then.” 

“ Like the woman in Handy Andy, you have had your 
old black silk dyed — pink.” 

“It is fine French silesia, forty cents, and a yard in 
width. It is just elegant.” 

She did look lovely. I had to rush up and kiss her, if 
she was not a bride. 

“ I am practising, you see. I expect to get my trous- 
seau out of nothing.” 

I smiled a little then. 

She had bought our gloves. I had a beautiful sash 
just this colored blue ; and she had a white one with em- 
broidered fiowers in the ends. 

I was quite content to go then. All along I had ex- 
pected to give up at the last moment. 

I took a holiday, and we started early. Our box had 
gone on Tuesday by express. We found the house in a 
state of confusion, and Kose still in the hands of the 
tire-woman. We were shown to a room, and speedily 
put ourselves in order without the help of a hair-dresser 
or maid. Aunt Clara came and surveyed us. 

“You look very pretty indeed,” was her gratifjdng 
comment. “ Now, here are some natural flowers. Help 
yourself, and then come to my room.” 

The bride was there. I thought she looked rather fussy 
and overloaded for so young and slight a girl. 

We were marshalled down stairs, and took our places. 
Lace and flowers appeared to be all over. It seemed so 


164 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


queer to come out of daylight into the yellowness of gas ! 
but, when your eyes were accustomed to it, the scene 
became very briUiant. The large room was comfortably 
full. Silks, satins, velvets, diamonds, every thing, in fact. 
Fans waving perfume to and fro, the glitter and sparkle 
of jewels, and then in swept the bride with her volumi- 
nous train. There was a little altar with a clergyman 
behind it, back of him a great arch of flowers. The 
words were said over: Mrs. Van Kort turned with the 
utmost empressement to receive congratulations. 

The breakfast was very elegant, by gaslight also. The 
table looked like a picture : it was rather stately, lacking 
freshness and spirit, it seemed to me ; and I was more 
interested in the guests than in the bride. 

She had to leave presently, and made her re-appearance 
in a beautiful light silk, said her good-bys ; and a pro- 
cession of carriages drove down to the steamer. The 
bridegroom looked thin and insignificant ; and it seemed 
quite ridiculous to make all this fuss over two foolish 
young people. 

There were wedding-cake, and some compliments to 
take home. I felt half tired to death. 

“ If I were ever so rich, I would not have such a wed- 
ding, declared Theo. “ What real enjoyment was there 
for any one? You looked at the bride, and at your neigh- 
bor’s clothes, and listened to a trifle of gossip, and ate 
some elegant trifle, and drank the bride’s health. Why, 
we could live all winter on what the feast cost ! And 
now I am glad we did not spend any more. I heard one 
of the women in velvet designate me as the dark-haired 
young girl in pink silk with a white over-dress, and was 
supremely content. Society only seems to demand that 
the outside shall be all en regle.^* 

However, I was quite a heroine at school, when a society 
paper published an account of the marriage, and men- 
tioned a “ cousin of the bride’s, from Northwood,” as “ aa 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


165 


extremely pretty young girl.” Theo laughed. When it 
came to that, she had looked very lovely that morning. 

Now that Theo’s engagement was settled upon, it was 
curious how soon we all came to look at the best side of 
it. Theo would be provided for in any emergency, which, 
I suppose, meant papa’s death, though we never mentioned 
it. Yet we could see that he had broken very much. He 
was nearing fifty ; not oZd, to be sure, and good for con- 
siderable of the right work yet, if he could get it to do, 
or if the wear of anxiety could be lifted : that was harder 
than any work. 

There is a great deal of romancing about poverty and 
its blessing ; but the truth is so different. Well-to-do 
people seem never to comprehend this. We had to think. 
Theo’s and Mr. Ross’s board would be quite a godsend 
now, to tide us over ; for we all had a horror of debt. 
She would be no longer dependent upon us, and might, 
in her wider sphere, see some way of returning pleasure 
or comfort ; and she would be lifted out of the present 
hard struggle. Father was pleased : I suppose men most 
always are when their children start anew in hfe with 
fairly prospering gales. Mr. Ross had a good salary. 
He and Theo would have alone as much as our whole 
family had used during some years. 

And we had come to feel that Theo would never be able 
to take care of herself wholly. She looked so bright in 
the happy exuberance of youth and freshness ; she was so 
gay and spirited : yet she was not strong. It did not 
seem to be any thing in particular ; only dreadful nervous 
headaches when she was tired, a pain in her side if she 
sewed too long, and sudden faintings. If she had been 
alarmed, I suppose we should have consulted Dr. Shel- 
don ; but she would pass it off carelessly by likening 
herself to Mrs. Sandborn. 

Mother and I considered about Theo’s trousseau. She 
went out and looked at goods, and reported. A new 


166 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


black silk Theo must have ; and a serviceable one could 
not be bought under four dollars a yard. Crinoline was 
rather voluminous in those days ; but overskirts, with 
loopings and bunchings and ruffles, were not the rage. 
Sixteen yards would make a dress. The black silk, with 
velvet to trim it with, would cost at least seventy dol- 
lars. A pretty light silk, a remnant in two pieces, had 
been offered mother at a bargain, — thirty-five dollars. 
Then a cloth travelling-suit, with a stylish sack, gloves, 
boots, laces, and a httle finery. As she was not going 
from home, and had two nice morning-dresses, — one 
made out of an old silk, — they would do. 

Theo was much surprised at the result of mother^ s 
shopping. She would not tell where the money came 
from, and was very merry over Theo’s questioning. We 
went to work in earnest, making them up among our- 
selves ; for we could not spend a penny on dressmakers. 

We waited to hear from Archie before appointing the 
day ; but his coming home was extremely doubtful. Then 
Mr. Ross learned that they were going to close the works 
at the middle of December : he would take the fortnight 
for his wedding journey. 

The engagement did get talked of, though we were very 
quiet about it. Miss Hudson considered Mr. Ross a 
foolish man to marry such a very young girl ; and Theo 
Durant, she had heard, was a good deal of a flirt. She 
hoped they would be happy ; but there was so much dif- 
ference in their ages ! 

Yet there were many pleasant episodes in the calls, and 
merry confusion, and planning. Theo kept very gay, and 
was on her good behavior, she said. Certainly she was 
devoted to Mr. Ross, who now came in nearly every even- 
ing. Was she happy? 

If father could be in uncle Robert’s place. I used to 
think of it so often ! If Theo and I could have the leis- 
ure, the advantages of society and dressing, and live in 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


167 


that beautiful palace ; if we could draw around us a 
circle of cultivated and refined people, and, after having 
enjoyed a delightful j^outh, choose, or be chosen by, the 
one man whose soul might overshadow and fill ours with 
that perfect love casting out all fear ; if one need not 
study what would be best, need not balance a dependence 
on one side or the other with the feeling of urgency, but 
enter that large, serene, hopeful life, calm with the thought 
of an heaventy awaiting ! 

Ah, if they could but see, — these rich, fortunate souls, 
— learn to care less for the glitter or the hot race of out- 
stripping their neighbors ! That many of them are not 
happy, I know. But do we blame the beautiful garden 
and the tree of knowledge, because Eve sinned ? 

We could have none of these advantages : so we must 
make the best of what came to us ; choose between com- 
parative elements, not from the very highest and best. 

For the wedding, Theo decided to be married in church. 

Mr. Ross demurred at this. Church weddings seemed 
so public, so showy. He would much rather be married 
here in the parlor. 

“ I shall be married in church,’’ said Theo with cahn 
decision. 

“ Suppose I do not agree to it?” and IVIr. Ross gave 
a little uncomfortable laugh. 

Theo flared up at that. There was a bright spot in her 
cheek, and her eyes had a steady, resolute look. 

“ If you marry me at all, you wiU marry me in church,” 
she returned slowly. “You can do quite as you like 
about it.” 

He turned toward her. I dreaded to see them come to 
a quarrel : so I interposed with a bit of fun ; and then a 
friend dropped in. 

“ Did you settle about the marriage? ” I asked some 
time the next day. 

“Oh, yes! ” but it sounded petulant, or not quite at 


ease. 


168 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ Is it to be in church? ” 

“ Yes. Why should one be ashamed of the great act 
of one’s life? I do not care if half of Northwood is 
there, or if there were but only one soul for witness. It 
seems to me that church is the i^roper place. When I 
die, I should hke to be taken there with ‘ solemn step and 
slow.’ Remember this, Chrissie, will you? ” 

“ How absurdly you mix things, Theo ! ” and a chiU 
went to my heart. 

“ I feel sometimes as if marrying and bur3dng were not 
so very unlike. There ! It is nonsense. Yes, we are to 
be married in church.” 

First it was to be in travelling- attire. Then papa put 
in a word. It was so unsocial to go from church to the 
depot ! At home it would seem as if there had been a 
funeral. Couldn’t we have a little wine and cake, and 
a few people? “If it is the poverty you are thinking of, 
I would go with one meal a day afterward,” said he wist- 
fuUy. 

Mother laughed tremulously, and we began to consider 
again. 

Theo planned it at length. She would go to church in 
white, at — say eight in the evening ; then come home 
for a little reception. There was a train going through at 
ten, and it would suit them just as weU. Father was so 
much better pleased. 

She made over her white tarlatan dress with plaitings 
of blond lace. I had a white organdie. Another inti- 
mate friend was to stand with her lover. Ned Morton 
was to wait upon me ; he and Mr. Ross being friends. 

With my school-salary the first of December, and 
mother’s wise ways, we managed. We didn’t put our 
pinches and crooks, and the sixpence saved here and 
there, for guests to look at. Is it sham, the working 
and saving, the appearing nice on a little? I had dipped 
into Carljie. MolUe Henderson had quoted two or three 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


169 


such trenchant sentences, that they had piqued my curi- 
osity, and I was beginning to think. Yet I am not sure 
that putting on a rough outside is nearer honesty. 

Inside there was just my school-salary, and about a 
hundred dollars that father had earned during the last 
three months, our work, care, planning, and anxiety. I 
should have had a much more expensive wedding two 
years agone, without half the thought. Outside there 
was a troop of white-clad maidens walking up the church- 
aisle ; the bride looking very lovely ; the groom proud, 
erect, and with manly tenderness ; the familj^ around, — 
mother in brown silk and soft lace ; father in his best 
clothes, though they were not quite new ; Dell girlish 
in pale blue, which was very becoming ; and pretty, boy- 
ish Richard, proud that “ Theo couldn’t be an old maid 
now,” — a very young boy’s fear about his sisters. 

There was no break or contretemps. Just at eight we 
entered the church ; and fifteen minutes later Theo was 
going out on her husband’s arm, — Mrs. Ross. 

Dell and I had adorned the house with princes-pine, 
pressed fern-leaves, tufts of snowy Aaron’ s-beard, and 
scarlet bitter-sweet. Miss Newby and one of our neigh- 
bors had sent in some lovely flowers. The parlor was not 
overloaded ; the sitting-room was in nice order ; the din- 
ing-room looked cheerfully inviting. There was a hand- 
somely-ornamented wedding-cake, plainer ones, plain 
cake, some choice fruit, a little wine (that was a gift 
from uncle Robert) , ice-cream, tea and coffee for some of 
the old-fashioned friends. We had not bidden merely the 
young and gay. 

It all passed off very nicely. At half-past nine Theo, 
in gray and scarlet, bright and beaming, said good-by, and 
went out into the darkness of the night, into the mystery 
of a new life. 

We laughed and chatted ; and about midnight the last 
guests went aw^ay. Two handmaidens had been washing 


170 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


dishes in the kitchen ; and it had quite a cleared-up look 
already. We put away the cake, and rehearsed some of 
the pleasant comments. Aunt Clara and uncle Robert 
had been over, and were most cordial. Aunt Clara had 
brought an exquisite lace set, collar and sleeves, and half 
a dozen yards of black thread lace, just the thing for 
Theo’s dress. There had been a number of pleasant 
remembrances. 

“ I am thankful that every thing went oflT so nicely,’* 
exclaimed mother with a breath of relief. 

Father kissed me with a tender pressure. 

“ It is just the kind of a wedding I like,” he said. 


CHAPTER XV. 


“ I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to 
make me sad.” — As You Like It, 

Della staid at home the next day to help mother, and 
on Saturday I finished. Neighbors had been coming in, 
cake sent to absent friends. We came back to every-day 
life and to the thought that nothing could ever be quite 
as it had been, — Theo’s husband, Theo’s house presently, 
Theo’s children in the future, maybe. 

I had offered to give up our room to her when she came 
back. 

“ No,’’ was her reply. “ I shall take the spare cham- 
ber. This seems dedicated to our girlhood, to griefs and 
joys, and plans and confidences. It is like a first volume : 
it is the volume of girlhood, and we have been very happy, 
Chris ; so I don’t want it interhned with any new writing. 
I want to see you here in your rocking-chair on your side 
of the bay-window, your pictures, your ornaments on the 
bureau. I can remember so easily what the girl Theo was 
like ; and it may be a pleasure to me.” 

“ But you are happy, Theo,” I had said, with a great 
pang of fear at my heart. 

‘ ‘ Happ3^, of course ! Do y^ou want me to set the win- 
dows wide open, and cr^" out of them, “ I am in love ! No 
woman ever loved before, no one ever will again? ’ Why, 
there are hundreds of people being married ever}^ day, and, 
if we all went on so, the world would go crazy.” 

She always put off the question with some bit of fun oi 

171 


172 


FEOM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


ridicule. I was sorry to have her take it in such a prosaio 
way ; yet it was better than Rose Dinsmore’s flippancy. 
Would I have been more pleased with unreasoning enthu- 
siasm like that of Georgie Curtis ? 

There was something else, — a sacred, God-given joy, 
that illumines the face, the voice, nay, the very touch of 
the hand. A ghmpse of it had been vouchsafed to me. 
Theo’s married life might come up to a grand height in 
some of God’s providences ; but it did not begin there. 
Down in my secret heart I understood this fact. She 
could love with a higher, holier, worthier afiection, whether 
she knew it or not. 

The very next day after the marriage, father was asked 
to go over some books, and help settle a rather compli- 
cated business. By the flrst of January he had earned 
seventy dollars. We flnished paying our coal-bill, laid in 
a barrel of flour, and some necessaries. The interest of 
the mortgage was lying safe in the bank. 

Aunt Clara asked me to come down, and receive New 
Year’s calls with her. But my best silk was shabby ; and 
I did not want to spend any money. I had a pleasant time 
with my own young friends at home. 

Theo went to Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington. 
On the 3d of the new year, just dusk, they reached 
home. 

I ran out wild with joy. I had missed her so much. 

Was her face full of tears? Surely, surely. I kissed 
right in the midst of them. A great lump rose in my 
throat, and neither spoke. Mr. Ross bent over and kissed 
me, and made some ordinary comment ; Dick shouted ; 
Della and mother ran ; and then Theo was talking com- 
posedly, drawing off her gloves, and giving some order 
about the trunk. 

It seemed to me then as if Theo had been married 
years. She went up stairs while I hovered about, light- 
ing gas, stealing furtive glances at her, and asking eager 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


173 


questions. It had all been enjoyable, entertaining, full of 
interest ; but she was glad to get home. She was tired 
to death. 

Mr. Ross came up, and I left them together. There 
they staid until the tea-bell rang. 

Theo was indescribably changed. Pale and somewhat 
thinner, and with a stylish, society air, almost like the 
superb disdain of aunt Clara’s friends. Was she happy, 
I asked wildly, passionately. 

Mr. Ross had improved. As a general thing, he was 
rather quiet ; but now he talked, and Theo was silent. 
He described Washington as a fortified city, the feeling 
about the war, a certain hopefulness that it must end 
before long, the battle-fields around, the temper of the 
people, and so on. 

Theo had a headache, and went to bed early. Mr. Ross 
waited upon her so entirely, that no one else had a chance 
to move a finger in her behalf. He even had a curious way 
of intercepting glances, of answering for her ; but per- 
haps it had come from taking complete charge of her in 
travelling. 

I was just ready to go to school the next morning when 
they came down. She looked rested ; but it was not her 
bright, happy, sparkling face. A different Theo forever- 
more. 

To divide our interest, there came that day a letter from 
Archie. He had received a lieutenant’s promotion and 
commission ; and there was a prospect that he might get 
home before the spring campaign fairly opened. 

Theo’s marriage did make a great difference. I do 
suppose the danger of living together when these new 
relationships have taken place is in the conffict of the new 
and the old claims. Mother was very wise. I grumbled a 
little at first : but she placed the matter straight before my 
eyes. I was convinced, but not satisfied. 

The “ Works ” did not open immediately : so Mr. Ross 


1T4 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


had nothing to do but shadow Theo. He never cared to 
go out for amusement, or to talk with men. After break- 
fast, Theo sauntered into the parlor, and played over a few 
old tunes ; then they went up stairs. After dinner there 
was generally a walk together, followed by the privacy of 
their own room. If there was no company, they might 
spend an hour or two in the parlor ; but, unless the visit 
was decidedly to Theo, they went off, and left us to enter- 
tain guests. Several times I had gone to call her down 
of an evening ; but she was in her dressing-gown, or she 
had taken down her hair, or some other excuse. For the 
first month I do not believe I saw her half an hour alone. 
Was she kept a prisoner? I used sometimes to think that 
she was really afraid of Mr. Boss ; yet she could be bright, 
piquant, and saucy to him. 

DeU had a vacation of six weeks, and was home to help 
mother. Mr. Ross appeared to have a feeling that Theo 
must not so much as dust the parlor, or wipe a dish. And, 
although we were living so intimately together, we did not 
seem to grow any nearer. We always said, “ Mr. Ross.’^ 
The cordiality of brotherhood was altogether wanting. 
True, Theo called him Alex in speaking directly to him ; 
but the charm, the gay jollity, we had used with one 
another, appeared out of place with him. 

It would have pained me sorely but for an incident 
that happened. One day MoUie Henderson dropped down 
upon me. She had come to Northwood to get a few busi- 
ness-facts for a descriptive article ; and, as I had not 
deigned to call upon her, she resolved to hunt me up. 
Did I know that she had taken a stupendous fancy to me 
and my pretty sister? Weren’t we all crazy to let such a 
mere child marr}^? Mrs. Durant had told her about it. 

She would not take off her hat ; but there we two sat on 
the sofa and talked until teatime ; then she staid, and I 
went to the station with her afterward. How chatty and 
breezy and stirring she was ! She wanted to take me 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


175 


home with her that night ; but I explained the tyranny of 
school, and promised to go on Friday, for she was posi- 
tively irresistible. 

Mr. Ross thought her too loud and pronounced, too 
ready to compliment, and hoped Theo did not fancy her. 

“I have always found her very amusing,” said Theo 
simply. 

“And that is no business fora woman. Who could 
preserve any modesty, running round amid shops and 
factories and newspaper offices ? Such associates are of 
dubious benefit.” 

I was really vexed. If he was resolved to shut Theo 
out of every thing, he had no right over me. 

“ Remember,” said mamma, “ that English people think 
very diflerently on many subjects. They have not been 
quite so used to the emancipation of women.” 

Not that he made an entire recluse of Theo ; but they 
were always together. He made calls, and went out to tea 
with her, or took her to some entertainment. Was he 
afraid she might be tempted to flirt ? 

I went down to the Hendersons with an odd fear. If 
they were not really nice people, aunt Clara would not ask 
them to her house. 

MoUie was actually at the ferry to meet me. We took 
a horse-car, and chatted when there was not too great a 
din. She had tickets for a play that evening, — a cele- 
brated actor : would it not be a treat for me ? 

I thought of Mr. Sargent and the old days ; but I 
replied delightedly that it would. 

The short winter day had ended before we reached 
home. I only saw by the street-lamp that it was one of 
a row of three-story brick houses, quite overshadowed by 
loftier neighbors, with brown-stone fronts or various newer 
devices ; yet it held its own sturdily. And what I liked 
above all, what gave it a cheerful, inviting look, were the 
lights in the windows, where elsewhere blinds were shutf 
and shades drawn. 


176 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


MoUie opened the door with a latch-key. Oh, how 
lovely and warm, after the dismal, draughty car ! and so 
hght it almost dazed me. 

‘ ‘ Did you bring her ? ’ ' And some one came flying down 
stairs with a yard or two of dress behind her, and no 
crinoline. It looked odd, but refreshing. 

“Yes. This is Jo, Josepha: I believe I once ex- 
plained the baptismal appellations. Jo and Ad will never 
have an opportunity of being any thing more than the 
Misses Henderson in general, unless they commit matri- 
mony. Of course, Jo, you know this is Miss Durant. 
How is the supper? ’’ 

“ All ready and waiting for you. WiU you go in the 
library, or up stairs? ” 

“ The library will do. We will drop our outer drapery 
and get thawed, and then for a mouthful of something to 
eat. I am famished and frozen.” 

Jo might have been eighteen, a drowsy, brown-eyed, 
brown-haired, and I was going to say brown-skinned girl. 
A peculiar complexion it was, suggestive of indolence and 
harems, and piles of downy cushions. Creamy doesn’t 
quite express it : it was darker than that, yet not ohve, 
nor muddy ; but it led one to wonder how she came to be 
all of a tint. 

“ And your sister didn’t come? ” said Jo. “I wanted 
to see her so much ! Reggy just raved about her.” 

“ Don’t tell tales out of school, Jo,” laughed her sister 
good-naturedly. “That was last summer. Miss Durant. 
He thought her so artistic, and he had begun a picture 
that he wanted to put her in. But we couldn’t seem to 
get at you ; and now she is married.” 

“Is her husband jealous?” asked Jo, with wide-eyed 
innocence or curiosity. 

Theo had been invited with me, and Theo’s husband ; 
but I fancied it rather out of compliment. 

“ Nonsense ! ” said MoUie. 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


177 


I stood before the grate-fire, warming my hands, and 
cast a glance around. This room ran across the end of 
the hall, and was divided from the other by wide sliding- 
doors. A library-table stood in the centre, piled with 
books, papers, and miscellaneous rubbish. Book-cases 
or shelves across both ends ; those by the chimney going 
up very high, the others five or six feet, and finished with 
busts of various celebrated personages, and many curiosi- 
ties, as I afterward learned. Some soft dark drapery at 
the windows, a faded carpet, lounging-chairs, and a small 
couch pushed out endwise to the fire. A tattered novel 
with the leaves rolled over showed some one’s occupation, 
— not long since, perhaps. There were pictures, vases, 
and jars, apparently strewn about ; for there seemed not 
the slightest method in their arrangement ; but it was pic- 
turesque, comfortable, inviting. About the only difference 
between this and the other room was the absence of books 
(except as they lay on tables or chairs, or stood up end- 
wise on the fioor) , and a very handsome easel containing 
a portrait of Mrs. Rutherford, with a lace shawl draped in 
Spanish fashion. 

I did not take it all in then ; for we hurried off our 
cloaks, and hurried down to supper. There was a savory 
smell of broiled steak and various other tempting eatables. 

Oddly enough there were six women, seven when I 
came down. I was presented to “ ma ” first ; then Percy 
kissed me ; and Mrs. Rutherford shook hands in a dainty 
but cordial manner. No man was visible. 

Mrs. Henderson was still a handsome woman, — a soft, 
fair, infiintile complexion, regular features, and hair that 
had been flaxen, and now lay in silvery curls about her 
forehead. The son had taken his eyes and his general 
style from her. Portia and Percy were rather on the 
blonde order; Miss Mollie a nondescript; Jo, the “ nut- 
brown maid ; ” and Adrienne ! — a little lithe midget, with 
great, saucy brown eyes, an impertinent nose, a rosebud 


178 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


mouth, a fair, satiny skin, and a great coil of rippling 
golden hair, that looked as if it would tumble down the 
next moment. How she contrived to make it stay just at 
that point, I could not determine. Jo had two long 
thick curls tied together in the neck, and some short ones 
hanging about her eyes ; though the “ banged style had 
not fully come in yet. 

Mrs. Henderson was dressed in black silk. I found 
afterward that her wardrobe consisted of just four dresses, 
— a very shabby and disreputable wrapper with frayed 
sleeves, and pockets, and border ; a respectable wrapper 
made and trimmed in the same manner, black silk and 
some kind of purple stuff; a very handsome black silk 
trimmed with thread lace and velvet ; and an ordinary one 
with less velvet, and the lace Brussels, — the best one made 
over when it had grown shabby. A full white lace frill 
was around her neck, fastened by a single diamond. For 
ordinary, she wore a rather soiled Shetland shawl, that 
was always dropping off her shoulders, and sliding about. 
On state occasions it was replaced by one of very hand- 
some black lace. 

I learned in the course of the conversation that “ pa ” had 
gone to Virginia. When grown-up men and women say 
“ ma ” and “pa,” I instantly think of Mrs. Willifer and the 
cherub. But Mrs. Henderson was not at all on the order 
of the renowned Mrs. Willifer. She never would have 
hidden her elegant white hands in mittens. 

I^Gggy — his mother called him Fairfax, which I 
thought an improvement — was up the Hudson, at Mrs. 
Somebody’s grand summer-honse, where they were having 
a birthday party, and a week of visiting, quite in the 
English st3de. 

“We don’t have much good of Regg}^,” explained 
Mollie. “ Some one is alwaj^s carrying him off. He 
sings, dances to perfection, has such exquisite taste in 
tableaux and private theatricals, and such hosts of friends I 
I don’t wonder he never gets along at his work.” 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


179 


“ It would be better if he kept at it a little steadier,’’ 
commented Percy. “And if he would ever finish any 
thing ! ” 

She did not say it crossly. Portia laughed. Ad, as they 
called her, contributed a sage observation ; and some one 
else laughed. They were bright, piquant, good-humored ; 
not a sentimental family, by any means, but bound together 
by an odd element of interest and affection, — going sepa- 
rate ways when it suited, banding together for the common 
weal when circumstances required, borrowing each other’s 
best clothes, taking the ups and downs of life in a serenely 
philosophical manner, being lavish to-day, and perhaps 
penniless to-morrow, but troubling themselves no more 
about the future than if the world might be expected to 
end any night. 

A hideous old one-eyed colored woman reigned in the 
kitchen, styled Hebe, with a laughable touch of satire ; but 
she could concoct most delicious messes, even if she 
blundered at the hall-door, where, after all, she seldom 
made her appearance. And the girls were equal to any 
thing : they had so much presence of mind, nonchalance, 
and seemed never to be put out or mortified by any mis- 
chance. 

I did not learn all this in one visit. 

We had a gay supper. I certainly heard more of what 
was going on in the world in that brief space than in any 
other month in my life. We were barely through, when a 
coach rattled over the stones, and drew up at the door. 

“There!” cried Mollie. “Let us go and beautify. 
Portia, I want you to let Miss Durant have that white bur- 
nous of yours. We are to sit in the dress-circle. And 
— let me see,” studying me a moment — “Ad, she 
could wear your felt hat. Put the black plume in it.” 

I made a faint protest ; but I was hustled — that is the 
very word — up stairs among the girls, wrapped in a gar- 
ment of fleecy white, with long, silken black tufts here 


180 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


and there. Miss Ad brought a cream-colored felt with 
a flaring brim and long black plume ; and I took a survey 
of myself in the glass, quite surprised at the change. 
Percy was in pale gray and scarlet ; and Mollie looked 
very nice. I did not wonder that she was just thrown 
together, when I saw her dress. One garment dropped ofl*, 
and another dropped on ; and in a trice she was complete. 

Two young men were waiting in the parlor. I was 
introduced ; and we were hustled into the coach, making 
room for the whole five, with some merry joking. We 
rattled away, reached our destination, and were conducted 
into the very midst of the dress-circle. I felt at home in 
borrowed plumes instantly. We were in good season. I 
tried to comfort myself with well-bred indifference, but 
could not help stealing surreptitious glances at both place 
and audience. 

The play was “As you Like It,’’ admirably cast; the 
merriest Rosalind, suiting expression to speech, a love- 
lorn Orlando, a most melancholy Jaques, and a country 
Audrey full of native wit. It was so new and delightful, 
with its sparkle and spirit, that I felt enchanted, quite 
taken out of the work-day world. Ah ! I knew it was full 
of briers, as Rosalind said. 

After the curtain had fallen for the last time, a group of 
gentlemen surrounded our party, all well known to Mollie 
and Percy. I could not remember the names ; but I 
bowed, and answered questions, as I walked slowly out 
with the rest. And, shortly after our return home, several 
of them made their appearance. 

Their gayety was really infectious. They were witty 
too. One can never remember these flashes and sparkles ; 
and perhaps they would not sound as brilliant without the 
bright faces, laughing eyes, and the bewitching allure- 
ments of youth. 

We went down stairs again to a regal feast, — oysters 
fried, stewed, and in patties, grapes, fruit, and nuts after- 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


181 


ward, and a little wine. How they laughed and jested ! 
They were all doing something, writing books or stories 
or poems, or painting, or sketching. They had such 
boundless ambitions, such vague, delicious dreams of the 
future ! They talked of living at Paris, at Rome, and in 
quaint German towns. Somehow I felt rather small and 
spiritless to think that I might go on teaching school in 
a manufacturing town all my days. 

I surmised that night, that Miss Mollie had an admirer, 
— a very young man, hardly twenty in appearance, though 
he was twenty-two; rather short, rather stout, with a 
round face and somewhat snubby nose ; such a very every- 
day-looking youth ! and — O grief of all ! — called Johnny, 
Johnny McKnight. Had he done anything? Could he 
do any thing? His face was simply good and youthful, 
not strong or manly, or indicative of any force whatever. 

The gentleman on her other hand — she was hostess, 
and poured coffee ; and most delicious coffee it was too — 
was a handsome, black-eyed fellow, a war correspondent, 
who had come down the Mississippi with Grant, and 
seemed inclined to be sweet upon her as w^ell. Evidently 
Miss Mollie was a favorite with gentlemen, in spite of her 
lack of beauty. Her merry audacity, her shrewd, whim- 
sical comments, her cool, laughable impertinences, made 
her a most attractive antagonist. Everybody except 
Mr. McKnight disputed with her : he simply agreed, and 
approved with unreasoning, beatific smiles. 

It was two o’clock when we went to bed ; but no one, 
save Hebe, rose before eight in the morning. She made 
roaring fires ; and the house was almost at a summer tem- 
perature. Mrs. Henderson took her breakfast in bed ; 
but the rest came down gradually, dropped into places 
around the breakfast- table, — a rather untidy lot, to be 
sure, in various styles of attire, and dilapidated shoes or 
slippers. 

“ What is on hand this morning? ” asked Jo, pushing 
her soft brown curls out of her sleepy brown eyes. 


182 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ I’m going to take Miss Durant to Studio Building. 
I told Bradley I should be there ; and I want her to see 
Reggy’s pictures,” said Mollie. 

“ Explain them to her,” laughed Percy. 

“ Mrs. Studdiford’s matinee is at one,” remarked Por- 
tia languidly. “ It is an awful bore : but the price of fame 
must be paid ; and the entree of great houses is often use- 
ful. Girls, what would you sing for an encore ? Haven’t 
I worn out ‘ Within a Mile,’ &c. ; only there is that beau- 
tiful long swell in the chorus, and Mr. Haviland is sure to 
be there.” 

“ Or the ‘ Last Rose of Summer,’ ” said Jo. “ Those 
things tell so after a bit of Italian, which is stylish, but 
incomprehensible. Why people do sing in Italian puzzles 
me, except to display their voices.” 

“ You have hit it, with your usual astuteness, Jo.” At 
which they all laughed, and Jo looked innocently surprised. 

“ What will you wear ? ” 

“Oh! the black dead silk, and not a bit of crinoline. 
Percy, are your applique ruffles presentable? ” 

“ Just lovely I They were shocking ; but Ad did them 
up, and you can’t tell them from new.” 

“ When every thing else fails, and the grasshopper is a 
burthen, we can take in fine washing.” 

“ I could make lots of money,” said Ad eagerly. 

“ Only washerwomen are not invited to select and 
refined gatherings. It is generally supposed there is some 
repellant property in the fragrance of soap.” 

“ That radiates circles of prismatic acquirious sciolisms 
fioating tardigradely on the tenuifolious stratum of human- 
ity, and permeates the divine essence of the protoplastic 
mind ; a most injurious state of affairs.” 

“ Hear, hear ! ” and two shabby plated knives were 
thumped on the table. 

Just then Hebe brought in some fresh waffles, and we 
fell to eating again. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


** Comfort me, boy 1 What great men have been in love ? ” 

Love’s Labor Lost. 

We spent two good hours in Studio Building, and they 
were a treat to me. Then Mr. Bradley insisted upon our 
having some lunch with him. He and Mollie talked art, 
and discussed pictures that ought to be written up. How 
they ran over famous names and good points ! He was 
past forty, perhaps, friendly, social with that sort of good 
comradeship so free from sentimentalism, yet so thor- 
oughly delightful. He scolded a little about Reggy. 

“You girls spoil him,” he said decisively. “I wish 
the whole lot of you would get married, and throw him 
upon his own resources. He could do some very fair 
work, if he would.” 

Indeed, Percy was right. Every thing of his was in a 
chaotic, half-finished state. A magnificent pair of eyes 
here, but the face in outline ; a bit of golden or coal-black 
hair ; a strip of beach, with a ridiculous child sitting in the 
sand, making a pie in a clam-shell, — “By the sad sea- 
waves.” These fragments appeared to have a good deal 
of character ; but, the nearer a work approached comple- 
tion, the less genius it evinced, according to my way of 
thinking. 

“ I must call at aunt Clara’s,” I said, coming home. 

“ I will run in with you. I’m afraid she will want to 
keep you.” 

She did not, however. Col. and Mrs. Somebody were 

183 


184 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


there from Washington, and a friend who was just about 
to sail for Europe. Rose was well, and having a magni- 
ficent time at Paris. She hoped Theo was well and happy, 
and everybody else. 

She took me up stairs a moment. 

“ Chrissie,” she said, “ you will enjoy yourself wonder- 
fully at the Hendersons’ ; but I must put in a word of 
warning. That young man makes love to ever}' girl who 
comes in his way. He doesn’t mean any thing at all. 
And he has not a sixpence toward taking care of any one, 
if he did. His sisters adore him.” 

“ O aunt Clara ! ” I interrupted. “ He is not at home ; 
and, if he was, I don’t think I like him very much.” 

“Well, be careful. He would have made a dead set 
at Theo, if opportunity had offered. It must be a com- 
fort to you all to have her so well married.” 

I thought of it afterward. Was she well married? — 
our bright, eager, merry, wilful Theo given over to a quiet, 
commonplace life. Would there never come a time 
when — Ah ! it was too terrible to contemplate. If at 
some fatal moment the fire should break out, and scatter 
red-hot devastation in its track ; if she, scorched, bruised, 
and blackened, should be stranded on some shore of deso- 
lation ! Why must I be haunted by any such vision ? 

Simply because it did not seem possible to me that Theo 
could live the life of quiet repression before her. No 
variety to make now and then a restful hour ; a certain 
tenseness day and night — could human nature endure it ? 

How foolish I was ! Had not even we laughed about 
spooney young married couples who could hardly live a 
moment out of each other’s sight? 

Miss Mollie had some new gloves and ribbons to buy. 
I thought her frightfully extravagant. Her position on 
the paper brought her in just ten dollars a week. 

I learned afterward that one of their “ ships ” had come 
in. Take it all in all, they were the most improvident 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


185 


people I ever met ; and yet what amusement they extracted 
out of the bare fact of hving from hand to mouth ! 

That evening Mrs. Rutherford had to go to a rehearsal. 
She sang in a very stylish Roman-Cathohc church much 
frequented by the upper ten. A handsome young man 
escorted her thither and back. Three or four gentlemen 
called in. Percy played and sang. Johnny McKnight 
played on a guitar ; another had a flute ; and there was a 
delightful impromptu concert. No one thought of going 
until the clock struck twelve. Jo made wickedly beguil- 
ing eyes at the young men. Ad flirted in her funny, 
impertinent manner, and said droll, sentimental things, 
quoted the most amusing and apropos bits of poetry. 

I am afraid we were not very religious on Sunday. We 
simply did churches. Such singing, such style, such 
dressing ! it hardly seemed hke war and hard times. But 
people from various large cities were congregating in New 
York, which made it appear much gayer. 

That night, after we were in bed, Mollie remembered 
something she ought to have told Johnny. 

“ He seems your particular property,’’ I ventured, with 
some curiosity in my tone. 

“ Mine? oh, yes ! Hasn’t Percy or Jo or Ad announced 
to you that we are engaged? Really, I don’t see how I 
could have kept a secret two whole days.” And she 
laughed merrily. “ You see, we never do keep secrets in 
the house, and we never talk of our own aflairs out of the 
house. I sometimes wonder about women who can maun- 
der an hour over Bobby’s tooth, or Lulie’s trousseau^ or 
the short-comings of the last new domestic. It seems so 
absurd to call that conversation ! But — weU, Johnny and 
I have been engaged two years.” 

‘ ‘ But — how curious ! ’ ’ 

“ I don’t see any thing curious about it. He loves me, 
and I love him. We’re both as poor as church-mice, or 
Job, or any other synonjun for impecuniosity. And then 


186 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


he hasn’t any position yet ; and I am needed here a while 
longer. Poor Portia had such a time with her graceless 
Jack ; and now we all get along so comfortably together ! 
We do have nice times, and Johnny enjoys it: so why 
should we turn into two old frumps, scribbling in the attic 
bedroom of a second-rate boarding-house? ” 

“ That would not be a very enviable destiny,” I made 
answer. 

“ When there comes a good opening for us to^go to 
Europe, and there are two or three of us girls to get mar- 
ried at once, we shall try it, likely. I want Reggy to get 
famous too. He has it in him, I know. If the war only 
will ever end, so that people can go about their honest 
business once more.” 

‘‘ And you love him? ” It puzzled me. 
u Why, yes ! I could have had some one else, — I really 
could, although I’m not a bit pretty. He is a year young- 
er than I too. What does it matter, so long as we are 
suited? You see, the most splendid thing about it all 
is, he isn’t a bit jealous. Now, Jack used to worry Por- 
tia’s life just out. He broke up her singing in church 
once, because he was jealous of a magnificent tenor. 
He is a handsome fellow himself, or would be if he could 
stay sober. So I resolved, come what would, I never 
could marry a jealous man. Altogether he suits me. I 
am quite sure I can make something of him.” 

What a queer idea it was ! I fell asleep, thinking of it. 
There were two members of the family that I had seen 
very little of, — Mrs. Henderson and Toodles, as Mrs. 
Rutherford’s small daughter was called. Mrs. Hender- 
son’s room was the third story, front, to be out of the 
tumult and confusion. Here she worked at her history. 
Every thing relating to the subject, she read and took 
notes of. When she came to a decidedly new and con- 
vincing view, she altered her book : so she was constantly 
revising some chapter. It made me think of the man who 


J'EOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


187 


set about writing a book, and couldn’t remember whether 
physician begun with an / or a 'y. Not finding it in the 
dictionary, he concluded to remedy the oversight by com- 
pihng a new dictionary first of all. 

Toodles was um’omantically sick with the measles ; and 
a nurse was taking care of her up in uncle Reggy’s room. 

It seemed so strange to get up early, and hurry home, 
and come back to prosaic school-life. I felt as if I had 
been somewhere in an enchanted country. If I only could 
talk it all over alone with Theo ! 

However, the first of February the “ Works ” opened. 
Mr. Ross went away at seven in the morning, was home 
about half an hour at noon, and then not until six at 
night. Theo seemed suddenly emancipated. She ran up 
and down stairs, singing ; she stopped in the kitchen, and 
made a pie or pudding ; she visited me in “ our ” room 
after school, and we gossipped in the old, merry fashion. 
She even took walks and made calls with me. 

Yet about herself she was curiously reticent. Love and 
happiness were to be taken for granted. Her evenings she 
devoted to her husband, and no one made any comment. 

Dell went back to her emplo^unent, which left mother 
quite alone with the housework, except what I could do 
on Saturdays, or -Theo in that odd, surreptitious way, as if 
she did not want Mr. Ross to know any thing about it, 
though she never said so. Father had not been very suc- 
cessful of late, and we had to count our money closely. 
Theo’s board, was really our great dependence. In March 
we took the last money out of the bank to pay interest. 
In September there would be seventy dollars due again. 

But Archie came home. A tall, fair fellow, rather thin 
and bronzed, his shoulder-straps indicating his promotion. 
Oh, how proud and thankful we were ! To think of all 
he had gone through, and was yet alive ! We talked and 
cried, we laughed and cried. We invited in relatives and 
neighbors who had known him as a httle boy. How queer 


188 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


it sounded! We were positively gay. Theo and Mr. 
Eoss, Archie and I, went down to unde Robert’cj to dinner 
by special invitation. Afterward he and I went to the 
Hendersons. 

“ The jolliest crew I he declared laughingly. “ How 
pretty some of them are ! and, oh, how hospitable ! The 
old gentleman is quite like the paternal heads you read of 
in novels. But that handsome chap ought to have the 
nonsense knocked out of him. Why isn’t he off doing 
his duty by his country, instead of being molly-coddled 
by those girls? ” 

We also talked a little about Theo’s marriage. 

“It doesn’t quite suit me,” admitted Archie frankly. 
“ I believe, Chris, I’d like a brother-in-law better of the 
Tom, Dick, or Harry style, who was jolly and social and 
free. It seems somehow as if he held yon at aim’s-length ; 
and yet he does not really mean to. If they are suited — 
How stylish and dignified Theo is I Did you know, that 
day down at uncle Robert’s, I thought she held up her 
head with the bravest of them all. Wouldn’t she be 
grand dressed in velvet ! If father was only that rich 1 ’ ’ 

We had to say good-by again, and oh, how hard it was ! 

“Never mind, dear folks. Think of the poor fellows 
who have gone to Andersonville and Salisbury ; who have 
been covered up in trenches, or limp about on crutches. 
And here I am, — thank God I — ready for further duty, 
and just trusting in him day by day. I can’t tell you how 
it is ; but I feel as if he meant to send me home safe and 
sound at the last, and it won’t be long now.” 

After that we took to sapng, “When Archie comes 
home.” It would be such a relief to father, such a com- 
fort to mother. 

Another event occurred, that quite distracted us at this 
time. Another war-hero had been home, a young brother- 
in-law of Mrs. Palmer’s, who was lieutenant in a battery. 
We had known Roger Palmer always, I believe. He was 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


189 


just about Archie’s age. He had been wounded, not very 
severely, and carried his arm in a sling. Through all this 
time he had been quite a cavalier of Dell’s, without any 
one giving it much thought. He had a whole month in 
which to recruit, and, having no parents, spent consider- 
able of the time with his sister-in-law. Great was the 
consternation, when, one evening, he marched out to the 
dining-room, where father was reading his paper, and 
asked him, in a very frank, manly fashion, if he would 
consent to his being engaged to Dell. They were very 
sure they loved each other. 

It was really absurd. Dell was nothing but a child. 
Indeed, she had just put on long dresses. How could she 
answer such a momentous question ? 

Dell cried a little, and laid her head on Roger’s 
shoulder. He took the small face between his hands, and 
kissed it, oh, so fondly ! 

“ I suppose it does seem sudden and queer, and Dell is 
a little girl to you, because you have the two older ones. 
But, when I came home, I found she had grown out of the 
little Dell I remembered, into just the kind of girl that I 
— well, that I wanted.” And there was a perceptible 
tremble in his voice as he stopped to kiss the blushing 
face again. “ But, if you like it better, we will not have 
it quite an engagement. I want a picture of her to take 
away with me, and I want to correspond with her. I do 
suppose I shall write love-letters ; but, if you would rather, 
we will leave it just that way until I come back.” 

He has said his say like a great honest fellow. He is 
not specially handsome, this hero of our younger sister’s ; 
but he has a good face, — clear, open brow ; soft, pathetic 
brown eyes ; curly chestnut hair, not over fine ; a sort of 
brown-red moustache ; full red lips ; and a broad, cleft 
chin that gives his face a rather square, strong look. 

“ You have known me from boyhood ; Mr. Durant,” 
he cries. “ You knew my brother ; and my father was a 


190 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


good, honorable man. For this httle girl’s sake I will 
keep myself upright and honest, and clean of soul. Will 
you trust me ? WiU you take me in your pleasant home, 
to be a son indeed, if God spares me? ” 

There is no refusing his tender, noble appeal. They all 
cry a little, I believe : I find them wiping their eyes as I go 
out, wondering, in my innocence, what has caused this 
discussion. Dell looks very happy and shame-faced, and 
actually pretty, as she stands with her lover’s arm around 
her. 

“ Oh ! ” I say, as a rift of light pierces my brain. 

It gets settled presently. To-morrow Dell is to go out 
for the picture. There are only two days more. Then he 
says good-night to everybody, and kisses Dell in that lin- 
gering fashion, as if — 

“ Parting were such sweet sorrow, 

That he could say good-night till it were morrow.” 

When the door closes, Dell goes to mother’s arms, and 
cries again. It is a very showery betrothal. “ She is so 
young, it is so strange ; but she loves Roger so dearly I 
she is so surprised, but, oh, so happy I ” And, if she is 
allowed to go on, I feel afraid sho may wear out the adverb 
entirely. 

We have gone on sleeping alone since Theo’s marriage ; 
but to-night she creeps into my bed, cuddles up in my 
arms like a kitten, and falls asleep. Oh, happy, happy 
youth ! And I feel old, solitary ; I was going to say, 
miserable. Somewhere in the world, — ah 8 I knovv^ just 
where, — there is a man I could love, could be blissfully 
happy with ; but I have no right even to think of him. I 
have had my day, — oh, brief, sweet day ! 

Really, for a slim, lanky, undeveloped girl, Dell makes 
a very fair picture. Theo and Roger go with her. There 
is one, with Roger and Dell together, that is given to 
mother. Roger comes to tea, stays all the evening in true 


FBOM HAND TO MOITTH. 


191 


orthodox courtship, while I play “ gooseberry ” in the next 
room. Eleven. He really ought to go ; but I remember 
that it may be the last time, and am soft-hearted. Twelve. 
“ Good-by, sweet,” is whispered softly. 

The next day Eoger Palmer goes back to Tennessee. 
We have two soldiers to pray for now. 

The first of April father obtained a situation, to take 
charge of the financial part of a business : it was keeping 
books, making out bills, and collecting ; twelve dollars a 
week. But he was glad to have steady, reliable employ- 
ment. The first of May mother gave me ten dollars to 
put by, and I took fifteen out of my salary. Only one 
hundred and twenty-five to make up. 

The Chemical Works had been rather shaky since the 
new year came in ; and, shortly after the first of June, the^^ 
collapsed. Fortunately Mr. Boss did not lose any money ; 
but he was out of a situation. There was nothing in 
Northwood : so he began to look elsewhere. He heard of 
two places in Connecticut ; and he and Theo went to learn 
the particulars. 

Theo was not well surely. She grew paler, thinner, 
more languid, and had taken to lying in bed a good deal. 
Now she roused herself. 

‘‘ The trip may do you good,” said mother, with a fond 
parting kiss. 

They returned in a fortnight. Neither place would 
suit. 

Mr. Ross began to talk about Australia. His sister’s 
husband was making a fortune. Here one barely hved. 

“Well,” said Theo in a reckless tone one day, “go 
out, and see what you think of it. If it is really worth 
while, as soon as you are settled nicely, you can send for 
me.” 

He opened his eyes wide with surprise, and glanced at 
her. 

“ I should take you with me,” he answered resolutely. 


192 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


School- vacation began. Was it only last summer that 
Theo and I had such a merry time at aunt Clara’s? How 
long it seemed ! How much had happened since ! 

Aunt Clara had gone to the White Mountains, and was 
to spend all August at Newport. 

Mollie Henderson asked me to take a trip with her, — 
Saratoga, the Lakes, Canada, and up to Newfoundland. 
She was to correspond for two papers, and do ever so 
much sketching. It would be just the jolliest thing ! 

How it tempted me ! She figured it up at its cheapest. 
Then she had another string to her bow. As she went 
round, she canvassed for several books, and made money 
beside. Percy — this was a grand secret — had been out 
two months canvassing for the “Nurse and Spy,” and 
had made three hundred dollars besides her travelling- 
expenses. And then there were odd little adventures. 
She had assumed a name, and had lots of fun. 

I was afraid I had not the courage to undertake that, 
— the sort of vim and push required. If I staid at home, 
and spent none of my money, I could put fifty dollars 
in the bank ; and then there would be but fifty more to 
make up. Besides, I didn’t feel quite at ease about 
Theo. And, if she should go away anywhere, I would 
want to be here to say good-by. 

I went down to spend two or three days with the 
“ girls,” as I had begun to call them. Oh, how jolly and 
care-free they were ! They literally took no thought for 
the morrow. Out of her three hundred dollars Percy had 
bought a lovely Parian statuette, thii’ty-five dollars, and 
dirt cheap at that ; an elegant lace shawl, seventy-five ; 
given Reggy fifty to go to Lake George ; and paid last 
year’s tax. 

“ It is just royal to have a lot of money,” she declared. 
“But, girls, we must manage to get the money together 
for the coal-bill. We burned a frightful sight last winter ; 
and it won’t do to order, until something is paid on it. 


FEOM HAND TO MOHTH. 


193 


Oh, see here ! now that we have Miss Durant, suppose we 
ask the Severns and the Hills? Hebe will get up an 
elegant little supper. Mr. Severn is a splendid Shak- 
spearian reader. You would hke so to see him ! And 
Miss Hill is going on the stage at some London theatre. 
She’s the very handsomest woman you ever saw.” 

They had the ‘‘little supper;” and it was daintily 
elegant. Mr. Severn and Miss Hill gave us several 
“ scenes,” very finely rendered. There was some choice 
music ; and everybody was charmed. 

“Mollie,” said Mrs. Rutherford the next morning, 
‘ ‘ ma must have a new dress. I noticed last night that 
hers was absolutely shabby. If I was not going away so 
soon, I would see about it.” 

“ Who has money enough to buy a steak for dinner? ” 
and Mollie made the drollest of faces. “Percy must be 
dead broke, after last night. But it was nice.” 


CHAPTER XVn. 


‘ How oft the sight of means to do ill deedi 
Makes deeds ill donel ’’ — King John. 

It is a magnificent August morning. The shower of 
last night has cooled the air, laid the dust, and washed 
the vines and trees until they glisten in their ripe green. 
It is so different from the soft, shadowy green of spring ! 
The sky is fiecked with drifting bits of white, itself a pale 
blue, tender, suggestive of sails on the river, or walks by 
shady roadsides ; not the brilliance and rapture of June, 
that stirs you into anticipating all manner of impossible 
things. This is restful, waiting, perhaps believing. 
There is a great difference between a wild, passionate 
hope, and a calm, settled belief. 

Now that Dell and I are home, we help mother to get 
the breakfast-things out of the way early. She has come 
around to the little front-yard, with trowel in hand, and 
looks about with that careful, systematic eye to consider 
about slips, and small plants for winter-blooming. There 
is an oval bed in the grass, packed full of monthly roses 
and heliotrope. There is another little strip at the side, 
where we have a glowing, cheerful pansy-bed for autumn 
flowering. 

I am sitting on the step, with a book in my hand. Dell 
stands on the porch, looking out between the greenery, 
with a band of needlework in her hand. The era of 
cheap Hamburg is not yet begun ; French embroider}^ is 
high : so we work for ourselves. As soon as we are grown, 
194 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTHo 


196 


we make up a bountiful supply of underclothing, pretty 
enough for bridal lingerie. In Dell’s case it will be that. 

A rather short, thick-set man comes along slowly. He 
has a very bushy black beard, deep-set, small eyes, and a 
t3^e of face that is un-American. He halts at the gate. 
Mother, with trowel in hand, goes forward. 

“ Is — does, I mean — a Mr. Ross live here? he asks 
bunghngly. 

“ He does,” is the quiet answer. 

“Oh!” evidently much relieved. Then he begins to 
flimble at the gate. “Is he in? Can I see him? ” 

“ He is not in,” she sa3^s slowly. 

“ Where is his place of business? ” 

“He is not in business just now.” Then a thought 
strikes mother. It may be some one who knows some- 
thing to his advantage. 

I wonder if it would all have come about, if she had 
not said just that. 

“ He will not be in until noon, most likety. But you 
could see his wife — or leave any message? ” 

“ His wife, eh? ” as if he had not heard quite aright. 
“ When did she come? ” 

“ Come,” says mother, mystified : “ she has never been 
away. She is my daughter.” 

Something strange goes over the man’s face. He stares 
dully at us all. 

“Eh — when married? Alexander Ross, I mean : came 
to this country some seven years agone. A tall, likely- 
looking lad he were.” 

“ He married my daughter last December ; ” and mother 
stands up with an indescribable dignity" . 

“ And I could see him at noon? Well, I won’t trouble 
you now ; but I’ll drop in then. I’ve come from Pitts- 
burg, and I’d like to see him before I go back. Good- 
morning. Good-morning miss,” with a touch of his hand 
at his hat for me. 


196 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Mother stands and watches him as if spell-bound. I 
feel like flying down the street, catching his arm, and ask- 
ing him if — well, what 9 — if there is any thing wrong 
with Mr. Ross ; and, if there is, if it was before we 
knew him. Oh, then Heaven help poor Theo ! 

“ Chris,” sa 3 'S mother, in a voice a bit shaky, “ don^t 
you think this begonia too large to take into the house ? 
And yet it is so lovely, such a free bloomer ! ” 

“We might put it in the high vase,” I say, still think- 
ing of Theo. 

She comes flying down stairs, singing. She seems so 
bright and well this morning, with that tint of pink in her 
cheeks. 

** I canna’ leave the auld folks yet, 

We better bide a wee,’’ 

she is warbling in a voice of sweetest pathos. 

“ Oh, you are all out here ! Isn’t it a delicious morn- 
ing? I think I will bring my sewing down.” 

She is off in a trice, and comes back with low rocker, 
and pretty covered basket taken out of its willow stand. 

We sit until the sun gets too hot ; then we retreat with- 
in doors. No one sa 3 ^s a word about the stranger. 

Then there is dinner. Father does not come home. 
Dick is awa}^ in the countr 3 \ Mr. Ross is rather late. 

The dinner is almost over, when mother sa^^s, or tries to 
sa}’, carelessly, “ There was a man here this morning, 
inquiring about you, Mr. Ross. He did not leave his 
name, but said he was from Pittsburg.” 

“ What kind of looking person? There is a curious 
alertness about him, that reminds one of a dog pricking 
up his ears. 

“ A middle-aged, rather stoutish man, with very broad 
shoulders, and full black beard, — an Englishman, I should 
say.” 

“And he left no name? he did not state his busi- 
ness? ” Mr. Ross interrupts. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


197 


“ No. He will be in again at noon. I offered to call 
rheo ” — 

Mr. Ross looks sharply at mother, then as sharply at 
Theo. 

“Oh, I didn’t see him! ” says Theo coolly, giving a 
pert little laugh. “ Will you never get over the idea that 
some man might want to run away with me ? I am not 
in such great demand as you think.” 

He laughs too, then ; but it is a queer, rough sound, 
with no merriment in it. 

Do I imagine he has turned pale ? 

He does not put his arm around Theo, and walk up stairs 
as usual. Instead, he saunters into the parlor, opens one 
of the blinds, and peers out. 

“ Couldn’t we take a little sail down to Brent’s Cove, 
this afternoon? ” asks Theo : “ I feel so well and jolly.” 

“I — I don’t know. I must see what this man says. 
It may be some business-chance.” 

“True; business before pleasure.” She says it very 
pleasantly. 

Then he walks to and fro, goes out on the porch, comes 
back after his hat, stands in the hall-door, letting in flies ; 
and this morning we fondly imagined that we had driven 
out every one. 

“There, Theo! It is not worth while to ask him in. 
We’ll take a walk, and do our talking.” 

For the flrst time since his marriage, Mr. Ross goes 
off without a kiss or a good-by to Theo. He is not a 
demonstrative or caressing man to any one else ; but he is 
passionately fond of her. She stands in dull amaze. 

We talk, work, and read through the long afternoon. 
We get supper. Father comes ; but there is no Mr. Ross. 

By eight o’clock Theo begins to grow restless. 

“ It is so strange ! I do wonder where they — where 
Alex went. Was he a business-looking man, mother? ” 

Mother describes very well indeed. The stranger did 


198 


FROM HAKD TO MOUTH. 


not look as if he had his hands full of situations for needy 
people. 

“ Pittsburg! I do hope I’ll never have to go to that 
dirty, smoky city,” she says petulantly. 

Two neighboring girls come in to call. The clock 
strikes nine. 

Father is tired, and goes to bed. Dell slips off up stairs 
presently, to read over Roger’s letters before she sleeps. 
Foolish girl ! As if there had never been love-letters be- 
fore in the world. 

“ head is beginning to ache,” declares Theo ; 
“ and I beheve I’ll go put on a dressing-gown, or go to 
bed. I think it very careless of Alex to go off and stay 
so, without saying a word. Why, he might be killed, and 
no one know where to look for him.” 

She is not given to conjuring up ghosts or lions in the 
way. Her voice is strongly tinctured with impatience, 
vexation, and, it seems to me, jealousy. What if she has 
begun to love him as women can love ? 

I am just as sure, as I sit there with mother in the dimly- 
lighted parlor that has witnessed so many girlish frolics, 
that something is going to happen to Theo, as if I saw 
it coming to pass. She is not going to Austraha. “ God 
help her to bear it,” I pray softly. 

Ten o’clock. Mother goes about, and shuts some of 
the windows, talks to Maltie, our pretty cat, who is croon- 
ing over her one kitten, and finally manages to drag it to 
my feet, and jumps up in my lap herself. An absurd httle 
wonder comes in my mind, — shall I surely be an “ old 
maid,” because I love cats so well? 

Mr. Ross’s quick step is without. He opens the door 
with his latch-key, goes up stairs two at a time, enters his 
room and shuts the door. I draw a long breath of relief. 
Theo is safe to-night. 

“ Maltie, you must go to your own little bed,” I say, 
puUing her satin ears ; yet I sit lazily. 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


199 


There is a tramping round up stairs. Generally Mr. 
Ross pulls off his boots the instant he is within. He has 
so many nice, tidy, old-maidish ways. But to-night quiet 
and ease appear of no moment. Then they talk, — not 
very low, it would seem, though his voice rises above 
Theo’s. It is a pleasantl^^'-low voice in ordinary converse. 
Are they quarrelling ? Can Theo have been foolish enough 
to scold? 

A lull in the talk ; but the tramping goes on. It begins 
again. The door opens. Theo’ s voice is high and shrill. 

“ If you go away from me now, you go for all time ! 
If you stay away from me this one night, with no cause, 
you stay for ever and ever ! I never will live with you 
again. Heaven help me ! ” And she gives a wild, mirthless 
laugh. 

He flies down stairs, slams the hall-door, bangs the 
gate ; and his footsteps ring on the still night-air. The 
clock strikes eleven. Afterward there is an awful, death- 
ly stillness. 

Mother goes up stairs. I sit glued to my chair until 
she caUs in a frightened tone, — 

“ Chris, Chrissie ! ” 

There lays Theo on the bed. She is white as marble, 
and beautiful enough for any saint. The small, full mouth 
closed, the long black lashes of her shut eyes sweeping 
her cheeks, her lovely long hair in wild disarray falling 
over the pillow, one hand clinched tight, the other limp and 
waxen, one slipper fallen off, the ruffles of her white 
wrapper like tumbling billows about her. Am I dazed 
with the unearthly picture ? I could look at it forever, it 
seems. 

“Oh! is she dead?” cries mother. “Has he killed 
her?” 

Then I stir like one in a dream. I bring cologne, aro- 
matic spirits of hartshorn, and even the bottle of strong 
ammonia. We bathe her ; we chafe the cold hands ; we 


200 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


rub her limbs ; we feel of her heart ; and in our fright 
we cannot think whether she is dead or not. Father 
comes in sleepily, and asks questions which we do not an- 
swer. After a long, long while, — an hour it seems ; but of 
course it is not, — she begins to show signs of returning 
animation. A deathly shudder runs shivering over her. 
The eyes open without seeing, and close again. 

“ Where is Ross? asks papa, amazed. 

“I cannot tell any thing just now,” mother answers 
hysterically. Then she falls to kissing, and cr3dng over 
Theo ; andTheo asks in a longing, languid way, “ Where’s 
Alex?” 

No one answers her. She slips out of consciousness 
again. For a dozen times, perhaps, she does this, and at 
length lies still, exhausted, more like the dead than the 
living. At daylight we send for Dr. Sheldon. I watch 
while mother gets a little breakfast, and I suppose she 
tells the story over to father. 

Dr. Sheldon comes. He examines the pulse, he 
presses his hand on the heart. Then he takes a delicate 
instrument out of his pocket, apphes one end to his ear, 
and listens waril}", intently, with an anxious countenance. 

I know then what it is. Theo’s death-warrant is signed. 
Ma^'be she will never know there was an}" trouble between 
her and Mr. Ross. 

“ Give her this,” says the doctor, dropping something 
into a glass of water. “ A table- spoonful every half-hour. 
I will be in again at ten. If she faints in the course of 
the next hour, send for me instantly.” 

Dell gets up, and is shocked. She has been sleeping 
the happy sleep of youth and hope. 

No one wants any breakfast. We sit and look at Theo. 
Oh, so like to death, and but yesterday so radiant ! 

“Mother,” says Dell softly, “ suppose Mr. Ross had 
a wife in England.” 

“ Yes ; ” and mother’s calmness seems strange to me. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


201 


‘‘ Father and I talked it over. Yet he was so young when 
he left England ! — only twenty-three, — and has been here 
so long. There was no suspicion of the kind about him in 
Philadelphia, it seems. Mr. Brotherton, you know, said he 
should be quite wilhng for him to marry a daughter of his. 
And there have been his mother’s letters, his brothers’. ” 

A wife elsewhere ! — how cold it makes me feel. Such 
things have happened. Were we too hasty, too care- 
less? 

Dr. Sheldon comes in at ten, studies Theo earnestly, 
and gives a few directions. 

“ Had she any — terrible excitement? ” he asks. 

“Yes,” answers mother. “O doctor! can she, will 
she live? ” 

“ Depends upon how much strength she has,” almost 
gruffly. “ Keep quiet. Don’t talk much before her, 
especially don’t whisper. Answer any thing she asks, — 
that you can, I mean ; and, if she wants any thing, give it 
to her.” 

Just what they say when people are dying. 

“I’ll look in again at four or five o’clock.” 

She hes just the same, drowsing, wanting nothing, until 
almost four ; then she rouses, looks at us attentively, 
and gives a pitiful ghost of a laugh. 

“ You look hke a funeral,” she says in a quivering httle 
voice, — 

“ ^ Seven burning tapers about her head, 

And seven about her feet.’ 

Or like Tim Finnigan’s wake, when there was, — 

‘ Fourteen candles about his head, 

And a couple of dozen about his feet.’ 

Extravagant, weren’t they ? Owen Meredith is better 
for hard times.” 

“ Theo 1 ” remonstrates mother, shocked in every linea- 
ment of her sweet face. 


202 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ O mamma ! I had better have my laugh first, like the 
imprudent Irishman. Have I been very, very bad? I 
ought to have told you ” — 

Dr. Sheldon ie at the door. I run to let him in, and 
announce the joyful change. Theo puts out her poor, pale 
hand, sadly shrunken since last night. 

“ I did not die, doctor,’^ as if half apologizing. 

“Who said you were going to die?’’ and he looks 
fiercel}^ around. 

Mother has tears in her eyes. She besieges the doctor, 
who shuffles, evades, says Theo was indulging in hysterics, 
a la Mrs. Sandborn. 

“ Doctor,” and a solemn light comes in Theo’s wan 
face, “ let us all teU the truth. It is such an awful shock 
when one in apparent health dies suddenly ! ” 

“You are not going to die,” in a very obstinate tone, 
shaking his head decisively. 

“Will you dare to tell me what is the matter? ” and 
Theo’s eyes, lovely and sad, transfix him. He compresses 
his hps, and is silent. 

“I know it: I have known it a long while. It is 
heart-disease.” 

“ Who told you such an ” — I am sure the rest was 
going to be — “ infernal lie ; ” but he did not dare utter 
the falsehood himself. 

“ When Dr. Holloway was here, I went to him. I had 
mistrusted before.” 

“ A miserable, humbugging specialty doctor, who ought 
to be kicked out of the profession I And he told you a 
pack of lies, — that you wouldn’t live a year, unless you 
came to him for treatment — five dollars a visit! We 
respectable doctors wouldn’t dare do such a thing. And 
he showed 3^ou plates of the heart in every stage of the dis- 
ease. I would like to burn up everjr one in the country I 
And you came home, and cried in secret, and made 3"our 
will, and forgave your enemies, and — did 3^ou take any 
of his medicine? ” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


203 


“No; I didn’t quite believe him;” and Theo laughs, 
intensely amused by all this show of passion, then catches 
her breath with a quick gasp, and is deadly white. 

“ There. Don’t talk any more. It is a httle irregu- 
larity. I dare say you have danced too much.” 

“ Then I went to old Dr. Vandenburg,” she goes on 
quietly. 

At this Dr. Sheldon turns pale. 

“ When was all this cantering around after old men, I 
would like to know? ” 

“ A year ago last spring.” 

“ And Dr. Van said ” — 

“ That it was organic heart-disease. Oh ! I made him 
tell the truth. The probabilities were, that I should die 
young ; but I might live to be an old woman. He would 
bring in the vision of caps and specs and canes, and 
a general dilapidation, like that of the ‘ One Hoss 
Shay.’ ” 

Dr. Sheldon seems to take counsel with himself ; but his 
face gi’ows sadly tender. 

“ Well, it is just that,” he admits. “ This morning I 
thought, ‘ Whom the gods love,’ &c. Now I think you 
are too much of a reprobate to die, and that you are spared 
to repent of your sins. But don’t let me hear of any more 
Dr. Holloways, or there’ll be ‘ some other guess hollering,’ 
as my dear old grandmother used to say. And now, Theo, 
my brave little girl,” taking up the soft hand, and burying 
it in his beard, “it is as Dr. Van said. You hold your 
life somewhat in your own hands. A little carelessness 
may hurry you out of the world before God’s appointed 
time, or what seems such ; and, on the other hand, you may 
live many years to be a comfort to those around you. 
Your gay and buoyant temperament will do a great deal. 
You are healthy in every other respect ; and there is no 
sign of that much-to-be-dreaded enemy, the dropsy. So 
now, be a good little girl, will you? and don’t worry. 


204 


FEOM HAKD TO MOUTH. 


Don’t get in such a taking as you must have been last 
night. Try, try your utmost, and do me some credit.” 

He bends over as if he means to kiss her. 

O brave, heart-broken Theo ! She shuts her lips to- 
gether, and tries to crush back the tears. 

Cry, if you want to,” he says, grunting over a lump 
in his throat: “ it will do you good. Then everybody 
must keep very quiet, and you try to sleep. I will leave you 
an anodyne. To-morrow you will be able to get up a 
little, and have your pretty curls brushed out. I will drop 
in again during the morning.” 

We sit in silence long after he is gone. I fan Theo 
gently ; Dell works at her embroidery ; but mother thinks, 
with her hands dropped pathetically in her lap. 

“ Chrissie,” Theo begins softly, “ I must talk a little. 
Now you know why I left off the singing-lessons. I 
wanted you to think me indifferent. Dr. Vandenburg said 
it was the worst thing I could do, that, and using my arms 
violently in any sort of calisthenics : so I just buried all 
my hopes, oh ! and danced on their grave when I wanted 
to cry instead. Dr. Holloway said I must have travel, 
and this and that ; but old Dr. Van was so good ! Then 
I knew I should never be able to do much of any thing in 
this world.” 

Her lip quivers, her voice dies away. I cry softly. My 
sweet, brave Theo, who might have sung with the birds ! 
So many things are made plain to me now ! 

“ I do not feel as if I should die,” she exclaims, with a 
strange vigor in her voice. “ Perhaps — there, don’t be 
foolish, all of you. Are you glad to have me, at any 
cost ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ O Theo! ” Mamma is kneeling by the bed, kissing 
her hands. 

“You may have me for many a long j^ear to come. 
Mrs. Sandborn doesn’t die, you see : she only has 
‘spells.’” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


205 


I really do begin to respect Mrs. Sandborn . She may 
have heart-disease. 

‘ ‘ Could I have something to eat, think ? I am not a bit 
romantic or ethereal.’^ 

It pleases mother to go down stairs, and prepare it. 
A bird might eat as much ; but it makes a break in the sad, 
pathetic, tense strain of feeling. 

Neighbors begin to come in. Who is sick that the 
doctor should be here three times in one day ? What is it, 
really? Theo has not looked weU of late. Why don’t we 
try change of air ; and so on, in the pleasant, inconsequent 
gossip, the little irritants that draw out the deep, inward 
sorrow by a process of diversion. 

Supper-time. How ridiculous ! and yet we must eat. 
No one has said a word about Mr. Koss. Neither does he 
return* 

Dell goes out for a walk ; mother takes a little rest on 
the sofa down stairs : I am alone with Theo. 

“ Chrissie,” she begins in a very low tone, “will you 
help me to think what happened last night? ” 

“ How can I? I was not here,’’ I reply with a great 
gasp. 

“ Did Alex say any thing down stairs? ” 

“ No : he went straight out.” 

‘ ‘ The man who came had something to do with it. I have 
had many horrible misgivings, Chris. I was so angry last 
night ! I stood here, in the middle of the floor, and stamped 
my foot like a httle vixen. But it was so strange ! I cannot 
make it out.” 

“ Where did he go? ” 

“ Ah, I don’t know. Chris, he was crazy. His eyes 
were terrible. He would give me no satisfaction, but 
went round, packing up a few articles in a satchel, and 
then — maybe I did try him. I insisted upon knowing. 
He said — oh, with such a laugh ! — that I had complained 
of his love so often, and now he meant to relieve me of it ; 


206 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


that, as kisses and caresses and watchful tender care had 
been so burdensome, I need take no more. I can’t remem- 
ber all. He never kissed me after the coming of that man. 
Chrissie, light the gas, dear, and look in that second bu- 
reau-drawer. There is a box containing some papers, — 
his brothers’ letters and his mother’s.” He accidentally 
broke the lock yesterday morning. Open it, and bring 
them all to me.” 

I look in the box : it is quite empty. 

“ There isn’t a letter here.” 

“ Yes, there is ; scattered in the drawer, maybe, he tum- 
bled things about so.” 

I take out every thing. Not a letter or a scrap of 
paper. It is some time before she will be convinced. 

“ Chrissie,” after a long silence, “ do you know of any 
reason why he should thus desert me ? ” 

“ No,” I cry tremulously, “ unless — unless ” — 

“ Unless he had a wife before he married me. I think, 
Chrissie, that he had, and that she has come to this coun- 
try. If I had died last night, dear, it would all have 
been ended.” 


CHAPTER XVm. 


** When sorrows come, they come not single spies, . . . 

Like sweet hells jangled, out of tune, and harsh.” 

Hamlet. 

Theo does not sleep much through the night. Once or 
twice, just lost in the realms of dreamland, she cries out, 
“ O my love, my love ! ” At morning she turns wearily. 

“ To think of a whole long life without any more love, 
any more tender kisses, any foolish, endearing care, put- 
ting on m}^ stockings and slippers, carrying me about in 
his arms, bathing my head when it ached, brushing my 
hair and kissing it, and saving ridiculously sweet things. 
He loved me so ! I used to wish he never had ; and yet I 
came to like it — and now it is gone forever.’* 

‘‘ He may come back, Theo.” 

“But how can he explain? — unless he was drunk, 
yes, absolutely drunk, Chrissie ; and he did not look like 
that. If he was, I should be bitterly ashamed of him all 
m}" days. I said to him, ‘ Sometimes a man has a wife 
in another country.’ I think the Devil must have put 
it into my mind ; and I thought he would strike me to 
the floor. I felt so afraid of him, that I wished, oh ! how 
I wished I was free ! And now ” — 

“ Do you love him, Theo? do you? ” and I look eager- 
ly in her eyes. 

“Yes, I suppose I do,” in an absent, dream}^ way. 
“ He always had a strange fascination for me. The night 
we made up for the last time, when it seemed fated that I 
must marry him, I told him what the doctors had said. 

207 


208 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


‘ If I were sure of d}dng in a year, would you want to 
marry me?’ I asked. And he said he would rather have 
one year of bliss with me than a lifetime with any other 
woman. He promised to take such care of me; and, 
Chrissie, I thought it would soften the blow at the last, if 
I had belonged to some one else a little while. I had such 
queer, strange feelings now and then, quite as if I might 
die. We were so poor too ! I could do nothing but remain 
a burthen on you. I made him promise to board home for 
six months : it would be a little help. Was it selfish? and 
is God punishing me for that planning? ” 

“ O Theo my darling, you did it for our sakes ! ” And, 
flinging my arms about her, we both sob softly, just as 
if the keen ears of love could not hear. 

She recovers first, and gathers up her voice b}^ dint of 
little coughs and sundry clearings of her throat. 

“ Not all together. You see, I had come to believe that 
my life was not worth much, and he loved me so. I could 
make him very happy ; and, in return, he would do a little 
for me and mine. But, if I had not loved him to some 
extent, I could not have done it. He wasn’t rich enough 
to make it an absolute temptation ; ’ ’ and she laughs as 
happy childhood might laugh. “ I began to feel that it 
was a duty. I couldn’t seem to put it out of my wa3^ 
But, Theo, if I had possessed health and strength, and my 
voice, I do not beheve I would have married any one. I 
should have liked so to study, to sing, if only in a church, 
where people were listening with reverent hearts. Was 
it vanity? Well, that was all taken away. And now I 
seem so confused. Only we must find out. Either I am a 
deserted wife, or no legal wife, even with truth on my side. 
I have been studying it over during the night. I must 
write to his brothers. Sometimes there is insanity in a 
family", you know. Now I am tired, and will rest a while. 
Tidy up my room, and bring in some fresh flowers. Don’t 
you remember, how, through the winter, he used to buy 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


209 


little nosegays for me when they were scarce and high ? 
He was always thinking of me.” 

She lies still, watching me as I go around. My heart 
seems broken with love and grief. Why must this have 
come upon us, upon Theo? She did not want to marry 
him. There was a whole wide world for him to choose 
from. 

Theo tries to sit up for a little while, but faints away 
again. Ah, how bravely she has kept this fatal secret ! 

We talk over what is best to do. If there was some 
one to ask. I think of Miss Newby ; but, after all, what 
could she do ? Oh, if I had a friend like Mr. Sargent ! 

On the third day, there being no tidings, we tell Dr. 
Sheldon. He is surprised, indignant, puzzled, and really 
does not know what to think. A man a year or two mar- 
ried would hardly have left his wife, and staid away seven 
years, without her following. It seems as if some one 
would have heard about it. There is insanity : there have 
been cases where husbands have gone away m^^steriously. 

“The best thing is to write to these Rosses at Man- 
chester. And now. Miss Theo, if he comes back, what 
are you going to do ? ” 

A quiver runs over Theo’s face, through her hands ; and 
the lips try weakly, but fail to utter a sound. 

“ If you were my child, you should not live a day nor 
an hour with him, until the truth was positively ascer- 
tained.” 

“You think that would be right? ” she cries ; and an 
expression of relief illumines her countenance. “ I 
want to do just what is right. One’s moods change so, 
3"OU know. And it is queer ; but so few people think alike ! 
I have wanted to do that ; but I felt afraid ’ ’ — 

“Do it. Keep to that one idea. Who will write for 
you?” 

“ I believe I would rather ; ” and a faint coloi* comes to 
her cheek. 


210 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


She waits a week, and then sends off the letters ; for she 
remembers the address. The next day a note comes for 
her. 

A note, did I say? — a long, passionate, penitent, ex- 
travagant love-letter. He is in New York, dying to see 
her. He has found a situation at a very fair salary, and he 
has looked at some rooms. Would she not rather keep 
house? These rooms are furnished very nicely. If he 
could see her, he would explain about that fatal evening. 
He had some trouble that nearly drove him crazy ; but it 
is over now. Nothing shall ever happen between them 
again. He begs and prays to be taken back. He pictures 
their future life so beautifully, his love and loneliness so 
pathetically. Any woman’s heart would be touched. 
Will she come down to New York? She has only to 
telegraph, and he will meet her anywhere. 

“ And to think that I might have died and been buried 
in these seven days,” she says brokenly. “ Would he 
have been sorry, I wonder? He told me once, he would 
rather hold me dead in his arms than to know I would out- 
live him, and love another.” 

She cannot sit up an hour at a time yet ; but she writes 
a note with trembling fingers, to the effect that he can see 
her in her father’s house, where he left her. She has a 
good deal of pride, this pale little Theo. 

Mother objects strenuously. “ It will kill you, Theo,” 
she insists. 

“ No, it will not kill me. I want to be fair and just. 
And I want to see him again.” 

So he comes. I usher him up stairs, and leave them 
together. He stays two long hours talking, until I think 
I shall go wild. 

Theo is so exhausted, she cannot speak. Her ruffles are 
crushed, her hair all disordered, her pillow tumbled. How 
many times he has kissed the pale face, I cannot even 
guess. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


211 


“ He could not or would not explain, Chrissie,” she 
cries out with sharp anguish, as the twilight comes on. 
“ It is all where it was before. He is angry at my writing 
to his brothers.” 

He is over again on Sunday. Then the doctor storms, 
and forbids any more visits. 

Theo counts vrearily . ‘ ‘ Twelve days for a steamer to 

go, twelve to return, and two or three days’ delay. Oh, 
how long to wait ! ” 

She is very ill again. Once Dr. Sheldon watches all 
night. How good and kind he is ! 

School begins. It seems as if all the years to come 
were to be divided by these two periods, — “school 
begins,” and “it is vacation.” I am losing the bright, 
happy interest I had at first. 

The confinement is telling on father. He has a little 
fever, and no appetite. He must break out, and spend two 
weeks in the country. His eyes trouble him very much 
too : so he gives up the situation. We have my eight 
dollars a week, and Dell’s four. I must take Dell’s 
money out of the bank to pay the half-yearly interest. 
What of my old dresses are serviceable ? How can I trim 
and furbish and alter? Ah, what should I do without 
Theo? 

The month passes, and the letter comes. It is curious, 
to say the least ; a very guarded, non-committal missive, 
exhorting Theo to love and trust her husband, as to give 
him up would no doubt ruin his life, he loves her so. It 
does not say boldly and clearly that he never has been 
married, but that she need not fear being troubled. The 
sentence is suspicious. 

What can we do next ? 

Dr. Sheldon learns that we can send by an agent ; or a 
lawyer here can communicate with a lawyer at Manchester, 
or, better still, at Edinburgh, where Mr. Ross spent those 
3"ears of his j^oung life. Search can be made. 


212 


FKOM HAND TO MOIJTH. 


It is ridiculous that a little money should stand between 
us and this necessary knowledge. But the unvarnished 
truth is, that there is not even enough to bury Theo if 
she should die. One comes to laugh drearily at misery 
even. 

“ I warn you aU fairly,” I say with an imposing wave 
of my hand, “ that I never shall forgive any one who dies 
before we have at least one hundred dollars in the bank.” 

Theo improves ahttle. What shall she do? Mr. Boss 
protests that the idea of a previous marriage is false, and 
an insult to him. Cannot Theo beheve his brothers ? 
Then he grows exigeant. She is his wife. He is willing 
to take her, and provide a home for her, — the best within 
his means ; or, if she prefers, he will come back here. 

That cannot be, we all admit. 

“ Perhaps I had better go,” she remarks with a dreary 
hopelessness in her voice. “ I am making you so much 
trouble. And — I do not believe I shall live very long 
anywhere. What does it matter? ” 

Oh ! it matters very much to us. My stale little joke 
about money in the bank is nothing. 

“ Chrissie,” she says one night, “ let us go back to 
your room. Maybe I shall sleep better.” 

I have not dared to propose it ; but I feel that it will be 
more cheerful, and am glad to consent. Dell is sweet with 
bits of quaint, homely wit, and Theo often smiles. 

But oh ! it seems as if she never slept. I sometimes 
hear her cry softly in the night. Is it for the arms that 
used to encircle her, the heart whereon she rested ? 

We keep our secret quite well at first, but — is it be- 
cause Mr. Ross feels that he is making no headway? — he 
goes to spend one evening with Mrs. Hudson, and be- 
speaks her sympathy. She is very much surprised ; but 
she never could quite approve the marriage. Miss Durant 
was so young and thoughtless, so gay and fond of society ; 
not at all the kind of girl to make a happy domestic 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


213 


home, such as pleases most men, such as they have a 
right to expect. If she can do any thing for him, she 
would be glad to undertake it. He is quite right in want- 
ing to remove his wife from the undue influence her fami- 
ly exercise over her. 

If she could see Mrs. Hoss, and talk the matter over 
sensibty, dispassionately. 

So she calls. Introducing herself to mother, she begs 
to see Mrs. Ross on a very important matter. 

Mother consults Theo, who decides to see her. She is 
still weak ; and Mrs. Hudson is sent up stairs. Theo is 
in our great chintz-covered rocker, in a tidy silk wrapper 
made out of my old lavender bridesmaid dress, trimmed 
with black silk ruffles from another old dress. A soft 
plaiting of illusion is around neck and wrists ; there is a 
bit of pink and black lace at her throat ; and her curls 
are tied back with a pink ribbon. She looks so little and 
baby-like, her slender, limp hands white as snow, her 
cheeks colorless, her lips pale, but her eyes large and 
dark as night. Every thing about the room is pretty with 
industry rather than expense ; and there are several vases 
of flowers. 

It is quite awkward at first. Mrs. Hudson explains 
her errand. As the chosen friend of Mr. Ross, feehng, as 
she may say, quite like a mother towards him, she under- 
takes this errand as she would for a son. A person out- 
side of the disputes and differences — she hardly dared 
say quarrels — could see so much more clearly where the 
fault lay, and advise with a more correct judgment. She 
had warned Mr. Ross before the marriage, that she was 
afraid it would not be for his happiness, there was so 
much difference in years and every thing. But since it 
had been entered into, even if unwisely, did not Theo 
think it her duty to try and conform to her husband’s 
wishes ? Young married people were so much better off 
by themselves. She had always said, if a daughter of hers 


214 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


married, she must go away from home at first. This 
clinging to your family so strongly made wretched work. 
Mr. Ross felt that he had been an object of mistrust and 
suspicion ; that there had been a good deal of interference 
between him and his wife ; that her family had persuaded 
her to stay at home when he wanted to go away ; that he 
was ready to take rooms any day in New York for board- 
ing or housekeeping, but that her mother would not listen 
to her going ; that he was almost crazy with the enforced 
separation, the mistrust, and lack of confidence ; but that 
if he could have his wife all to himself, peace would 
soon reign between them. 

Theo listens to the long harangue ; for, as Mrs. Hudson 
is not interrupted, she feels herself gaining ground. She 
flushes a little, turns pale, compresses her lips with some- 
thing like anger, and, when the lady has exhausted her 
flow of eloquence, she says calmly, — 

“ And this is the explanation Mr. Ross has given you 
of the trouble, the reason ” — 

“Reason! Isn’t it enough?” cries the lady sharply. 
“ I told Mr. Ross if I were a man, no father or mother 
should meddle with wife of mine.” 

“ I quite agree that Mr. Ross is crazy, if he told you 
that,” continues Theo, her cheeks burning. “This is 
the truth, Mrs. Hudson. My husband left me one night 
at ten o’clock. He had been out all the afternoon and 
evening, and, coming in then, packed up a few articles, and 
left me on my father’s hands, without one word of ex- 
planation. There had been no trouble, no quarrel, and I 
was ready to go anywhere that he should find a situation. 
For a week, I never heard one word ; and now he can not 
or will not explain why he did such a thing. Since then 
I have been very ill ; some of the time not able to walk 
about the room. What could I do alone, and in immi- 
nent danger of dying? ” 

There Theo’s voice quivers and breaks, and she shades 
her face with the soft, waxen hand. 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


215 


“ He went away because he felt that he was not rightly 
treated/’ 

“ You know nothing of it, Mrs. Hudson! ” Theo says 
indignantly. 

“I am sure his story sounds quite as probable as 
yours,” is the sharp rejoinder. 

“ He has but to explain that absence to me, to grant 
me an interview with one friend of his, and the matter 
can be settled. It is not we who have turned him out,” 
Theo cries with spirit: “it is he who went. And that 
night I might have died.” 

“It is any woman’s duty to leave her own family for 
her husband,” is the rigid comment. 

“ When he is her husband,” rises to Theo’s lips ; but 
she does not utter it. 

“ I think you can do nothing,” Theo says after she has 
regained her composure. “The conditions I have im- 
posed are not very difficult.” Then she leans her head 
back wearily, and closes her eyes. 

Mrs. Hudson goes, with a shower of hopes on Theo’s 
devoted head. 

Now the subject gets a complete airing. In a day or 
two, everybody in Northwood knows that “something” 
has happened between Mrs. Eoss and her husband, — the 
pretty Theo Durant who married the Englishman last 
winter. “ She has refused to live with him,” “ They have 
turned him out of the house,” “ Her mother said so and 
so,” and all manner of improbable stories are afloat. 

Aunt Hetty comes rushing up like a whirlwind. “ What 
has happened?” Poor as we are (and now is aunt 
Hetty’s time of triumphs : she flings our poverty into our 
teeth, in season and out of season), — poor as we are, 
she should think we would be glad to have one girl married 
oif, with poor Joseph half-gone in consumption, and such 
a great family on his hands ; the dependent ones being 
Theo and our darling boy Dick. But she always thought 


216 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


something would happen to us, when Chrissie turned up 
her nose at James Miller. It was flpng in the face of 
Providence, and now she can see the result. But she’ll 
never have so good a chance again. 

Mother tries to explain somewhat; but aunt Hetty is 
rampant. At last, in sheer despair, she admits her worst 
suspicion. 

It startles aunt Hetty ; but she returns valiantly to the 
charge. Until we know it for certain, Theo ought to be 
living with her husband. She don’t believe any such 
story about a nice-appearing man like Mr. Ross ; and why 
didn’t we look into the matter before ? Wh}’^ did we go 
to all the expense of a wedding, if we knew or suspected 
such a thing ? 

At last she is safely out, and mother collects her scat- 
tered wits. 

It is one of the solutions that have been whispered 
about a little. Some person tells father that some one 
else knows all about it, — a Scotch woman li’sdng with a 
family in Northwood : so he sets about finding her. 

She protests that she has never laid eyes on Mr. Ross, 
and knows nothing of him. She came from Inverness 
when she was but ten years old ; and he might have ten 
wives in Edinburgh, and she be none the wiser. She 
remembered saying to some yther body’s servant that old- 
country people often did leave wives behind them when 
they came to America. 

Several other stories resolve themselves into the merest 
bits of gossip. Theo improves, and is able to come down 
stairs ; but, oh, how white, how wan, and fragile ! There is 
a transparent look about her that brings tears to my e3"es. 

Mr. Ross grows ihore aggressive and authoritative. 
Perhaps he suspects, that, in our straitened circumstances, 
we cannot cope with the enemy. He begs and pleads and 
implores, then he threatens Theo. She is his legal wife, 
and he will have her. He has never treated her unkindly, 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


217 


never refused her any thing : she has no showing what- 
ever. He will give her two days to consider ; then, if 
she does not go peaceably with him, he will invoke the 
law, and push every thing to the bitter end. He will make 
it so hot for her, that she will be glad to leave North wood. 
And his eyes glower with vengeful light. 

All through these terrible interviews, Theo is so 
strangely calm ! Is it because she feels the sword of death 
may cut the Gordian knot at any moment? As for me, I 
am almost wild. How can I bear to give her up to either 
mortal adversary? 

“ If I could only tell what was best,” she says wearily, 
at the dead of night, lying sleepless in my arms. “At 
times it seems as if I ought to go : I should not live very 
long, and the trouble would be over for all of you — I 
have made you so much in my short life ! He loves me, 
and will be good to me the little while ” — 

“O Theo, Theo!” I cry. “ TeU me God’s solemn 
truth. Was he always good? I have come to mistrust 
him strangely. His gleaming eyes looked so tigerish to- 
night ! Why, it seemed as if he could crush you in his 
hands!” 

A great shudder runs over her. My poor darling ! I 
kiss the cold cheek : she is cold so much now, as if she 
were but half alive. 

“Tigerish — that is just the word, Chrissie: it ex- 
presses the quality of his love, or infatuation. Let me 
tell you all, Chris, as I never have before. On our wed- 
ding-journey I used to feel as if I must run away. It was 
so strange, — being loved every moment, being questioned 
continually, never having an instant or a thought that 
were your very own. I tried at first to laugh him out of 
it. And then I found that he was frightfully jealous. If 
a person looked at me in the street, at the table, or across 
the room, he was vexed. One day some one said, ‘Is 
that pretty little girl that man’s wife, or daughter? ’ and it 


218 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


put him in such a fearful passion, that he changed oui 
hotel, though we were going away the next morning. So 
I began to lay aside my innocent little vanities. I am not 
jealous a bit, you know ; and it seemed so foolish to me ! 
And, after we came home, he did not want me to see any 
of my old friends. I had him: why was I not satisfied? 
He wanted no one beside me. He used to sit and read, 
with me in his lap : it was so absurd, and I used to get so 
tired! And, Chris!” with a little hysteric laugh, “he 
objected to my sitting in this room, or in the parlor, 
because I could look out on the street. I used to hope it 
was the foolishness of the honeymoon merely ; and I was 
so glad, so thankful, when the ‘ Works ’ opened. Yet he 
always questioned me about the minutest thing. He used 
to make me promise, that, if he died, I never would marry 
again ; and he used to suppose cases, — that if he com- 
mitted some crime and had to go to prison, would I be 
true and faithful, never allowing any one to so much as 
kiss me? Oh, I can’t tell you all! It was hourly, daily 
torture. I tried to be patient, thinking it was his great 
love; I tried to be good, devoted, to have no way but 
his” — 

She breaks down then in a fit of sobbing. I kiss away 
the tears, and try to comfort. 

“ I was like a prisoner always ; yet no princess of royal 
blood could have been more faithfully waited upon. And, 
oh ! how he hated to have me do any thing in the house, — 
wipe a dish, or dust a room. He was jealous of you all, 
and apparently afraid of the least confidence. Did I ever 
talk about him? What did the family say about him to 
me ? Yet I do believe, if you had wanted money, he would 
have given you any amount, — shared all things but just 
me. And, Chris, this was why I asked him that night 
about another wife. It flashed upon me mysteriously that 
he had some secret he was afraid of. Once we had read 
‘ Jane Eyre ’ together ; and he insisted that it was simply 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


219 


because she did not love him enough, that she did not go 
off and marry Rochester secretly. ‘ But suppose she had 
already been married to him? ’ he asked ; and, O Chrissie ! 
his face turned such a deadly, solemn white ! ‘ She would 
not have been his wife,' I made answer ; and we argued 
the point until he was angry. AU these things have come 
back to me during his absence. I do not want to be 
unjustly suspicious. I married him of my own accord, and 
meant to make him happy while I did live. But oh ! it 
wears me out : it seems to crush and torture every pulse in 
my body. And, because I have such a wild longing for 
freedom, I distrust myself. Have I any right now to seek 
my own happiness ? If we have been joined together in 
God, ought we not to stay? If there is nothing but a 
miserable comphcation concerning some one else, that is 
none of my business, ought I not to overlook it? I think 
and think, until my brain is all chaos. Then I imagine I 
am away among strangers, and he goes off as he did that 
evening, and I am left to die alone." 

“ O Theo, it can not, shall not be ! " I cry. “ And we 
all love you so ! " 

“Then my life may be so short, dear. Perhaps he 
would feel better if I died in his arms." 

In the frantic terror that seizes me I sit up in the bed, 
and cry and pray and implore that she will not go back to 
him. There has been enough on his side, surely, to jus- 
tify suspicion. If she will only wait — one month more. 
In that time, if nothing new occurs — 

Something shall occur, I decide mentally, even as I am 
pleading. I will seU my dear watch, I wiU borrow some 
money of Miss Newby, and send to Scotland. 

As last she promises me to wait the month. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


** There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; 

For I am armed so strong in honesty.” 

Julius C^sar. 

I GO about all day as if in a dream. The lessons are 
purely mechanical. I find, when I reach home, that Theo 
and mother are agreed that she had better stay at home 
another month. Indeed, she is still in the doctor’s hands, 
and he strenuously opposes any change. 

The next day I pluck up courage, and go to a watch- 
maker. Fifty dollars is all I can get for my watch unless 
I wish to exchange it ; then he will ofier me a very good 
bargain. 

I apply to another. Second-hand watches are a drug, 
he informs me, and he should think this was not — the 
very best time-keeper. How long have I had it ? 

I assure him that it has been excellent. 

He will undertake to sell it for me. So many people 
are parting with their watches ! Now if I wanted any 
thing, — jewelry or silver- ware — 

I walk out slowly, wondering how much it will cost to 
send to Scotland. I do not number many lawyers among 
my acquaintances, although a few students. There is Mr. 
Sargent, and I smile bitterly. Are we Durant girls fated 
to be unfortunate in love ? What will happen to Dell ? 

As I saunter along, some one comes toward me. I see 
the shadow, but do not look up. 

“ Miss Durant ! ” 

Oh ! I should know that voice anywhere. It is not the 
220 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


221 


first time I have spoken to Mr. Sargent in the street, 
though more frequently I avoid him. Now I absolutely 
put out my hand. I need some strong, true friend. 

He turns. “ Are you going down Harvard Street? 

“I? Yes, I suppose so.” 

He sees the pain and anguish in my face, that I hardly 
know is there. 

“ I will walk a little way with you. I have wanted to 
see you so much, Miss Durant ! Even at the risk of being 
considered impertinent, I want to ask you about my little 
friend Theo, — Mrs. Ross. Would you very much mind 
telling me what has happened?” 

His voice is so truly s^unpathetic, that it brings tears to 
my eyes. 

“ Let us put ourselves entirely aside,” he says with a 
sweet, calm gravity. “ I have been wondering this past 
week if I could do any thing for you or yours. I used to 
like your sister so much ! She has been very ill, I hear. 
Can the story be true, that she has mai-ried a villain who 
has basely deceived her? The truth ought to be pub- 
lished, once for all.” 

“ If we could learn the truth ! ” And somehow I can 
hardly keep from cr3ing there in the street. 

“ Do you not know truty? ” 

“Mr. Sargent, may I tell j^ou the story? It is a long 
one,” and I look up eagerty. 

“ Then let us walk down John Street to the park.” He 
finds m^^ hand, and draws it through his arm, so like old 
times. 

I clear my voice, and begin, — before the marriage, 
Theo’s hesitation, Mr. Ross’s evident determination to win 
her at all hazard, and then go briefly" over to the night he 
went awaj', and his subsequent conduct, and all the little 
incidents that led us to suspect. 

“ But why do you not find this man at Pittsburg? ” he 
asks. 


222 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ How could we? We do not even know his name,** 
I answer in surprise. 

“ I think I could find him. That would determine 
whether it was marriage, or some crime ; and, if the latter, 
I should advise your sister to get a divorce. There is a 
limit to mercy, or justice would not have been instituted. 
There may be little sins against one, to be forgiven 
seventy times seven ; but a crime against civil law is not 
included in that, to my thinking. Is your sister too ill to 
discuss this matter with a friend? ’* 

“ No , * * hesitatingly. 

“ Will you allow me to see her? ” 

His voice is clear, and sharp almost, so free is it from 
any weakness of sentiment. It gives me a strange, exult- 
ant courage. I can have my friend back. 

“ If you will take the trouble, Mr. Sargent.** My 
face flushes horribly, and my voice trembles. “ You 
know, perhaps, that papa has been unfortunate, and is in 
very poor health.’* 

‘‘Yes,” briefly. “But I think I can manage this for 
you, so that the actual cost shall be very little. I should 
be glad to prove of any service to her. I am engaged 
this evening ; perhaps I could see her as well in the day- 
time?” 

“ Quite as well,’* I answer. 

“ To-morrow then, at three, say. Tell her not to be 
worried. Give her my truest, warmest sympathy. Why, 
she can be nothing but a child.” 

“ Nineteen this very month.” 

“ And in one year she has run through the octave of a 
woman’s life. How sad ! She was so bright and winsome, 
and with a piquant beauty. Why should this have come 
upon her? ” 

We have walked round the park, and up again. I see a 
car, and signal it. 

“ To-morrow, remember,” he sa^^s, and puts me in 
with a kind “ good-night.” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


223 


It is late when I reach home. The> are just sitting 
down to supper. 

“O father! Mr. Hatfield was here to-day,” says 
mother, in the midst of pouring tea. “ They want a man 
in the store, chiefiy to take orders and deliver goods ; and 
he wondered if you would accept of it. They pay only 
nine dollars a week.” 

“ Yes, with thanks,” replies father, — “ until something 
better comes to hand. I’ll go down immediately after 
supper, and make a bargain. It will keep me a good deal 
in the air, which is what I need.” 

Dell and mother wash up the dishes. Mrs. Palmer is 
to give her five dollars a week now. And, if father should 
earn a little, it would relieve us all greatly. 

At eight a carriage stops, and there is a quick, authori- 
tative ring at the door. Theo trembles and turns pale, 
then rouses and enters the parlor, still holding my hand. 

It is Mr. Ross. He kisses her : he always does when 
he comes. But there is a look about him to-night which 
is not to be trifiedwith. Indeed, he is not long in coming 
to the point. Will Theo make herself ready and go with 
him? Before God he promises to be kindness, tenderness 
itself; but he cannot live without her. He will not, since 
she is his lawful wife. 

Theo steadies her voice ; but I know every weak pulse 
is throbbing to its uttermost. In a soft, tremulous tone 
she tells him what she has resolved. She will remain at 
home another month. 

He pleads persuasively at first. The man has a won- 
derfully pathetic voice. He pictures his loneliness in a 
manner that would make your heart ache. 

She is not suflSciently well for any change, she replies. 
And she has not quite decided. 

He loses temper and patience presently. 

“ Madam! ” he cries in a transport of fury, his face 
livid, his eyes two points of fiame — “Madam, do you 


224 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


know that you are my wife, that the law gives me a right 
to 3"Ou, soul and body? I have a carriage and an officer 
outside, a warrant in my pocket. Either you go peace- 
ably or by force. This foohng is at an end.” 

Then Theo rises. She is so slim, so willowy and sway- 
ing, that it seems as if she must fall. Her face is color- 
less ; even the lips look marble cold ; while her hair and 
eyes are full of shadowy dusk. She stretches out her 
little hand. 

“Alex,” she says calmly, “touch me at your peril. 
Do you want to kill me? ” 

“ I had rather hold you dead in my arms than to know 
you were ahve in those of any other, man or woman.” 

Can human jealousy go farther ? 

He comes a step nearer. A dozen thoughts flash 
through my mind ; and yet I stand terror-stricken. 

“You shall not kill me : you have no right. I have not 
sinned against you. Oh, how cruel you are ! And now 
I tell you I will not go to-night, perhaps never.” 

She retreats a few steps. Mother has thought, and de- 
spatched Dick for our good neighbor Mr. Mercer. He runs 
in through the garden-way, and enters the dining-room. 
At that instant Theo falls senseless in mother’s arms. 

“You have killed her ! ” shrieks mamma. 

But Theo recovers, and Mr. Mercer talks. Mr. Ross 
turns sulkily. He is not a profane man ; but he utters an 
oath, — one of those deep, sullen oaths, with a grinding of 
the teeth. Then he leaves us, and the carriage rolls away. 

I comfort them all with the news of Mr. Sargent’s pro- 
posed visit. 

Father obtains the situation. The next day a letter 
comes from Archie, enclosing fift}^ dollars that he has 
saved for mother. Did we ever dream that fifty dollars 
would make us so joyful? My poor httle watch can be 
saved to me a while longer. 

By the next night we feel like a different family. Mr. 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


225 


Sai'geut has called. He is very sure, by advertising or 
some method, he can find this man at Pittsburg. It is 
best that Mr. Ross shall be forbidden the house : this, 
Mr. Sargent attends to also. 

One of those sleepless nights, I confess to Theo my 
bit of heart-history. It brings us nearer, each to have 
had a sorrow. 

“O Chris!” she exclaims passionately, “in the early 
days, when you had first given him up, did 3’'ou not long 
after him with such intensit}", that you felt 3^ou must call 
him back, that you could not endm-e the thought of never 
seeing him again ? That is the way I feel at times about 
Alex. I remember all the nice pleasant hours we have 
had together, and half believe that I must be at fault. 
Do I love him really? And yet I should be afraid to 
trust mj^self with him again. Are such variations of feel- 
ing unreasonable, absurd?” 

“ You cannot help them,” I reply. 

Again she says, with her soft fingers wandering about 
my face, — 

“ Dear, does it pain you to see Mr. Sargent? Answer 
me truly, as before Heaven : will it lead to any longing 
for the old times? ” 

“ Theo, all that is dead. I do not believe either of us 
is weak enough or foolish enough to drag it out of its 
grave. I am not of the sickly sentimental order. We 
can be friends : that is sufficient.” 

He has been in twice. The matter is in train. 

A fortnight passes, a month. Mr. Ross writes fre- 
quentl}^, — passionate, despairing letters. Outside gossip 
is-still afloat. Mrs. Hudson says, “ If the Durants know 
so much about Mr. Ross, why do they not prove some- 
thing?” Theo goes on fluctuating, but improves we 
think. 

Dr. Sheldon has great hopes of her. “ She has gone 
through with enough to kill any one,” he says, “ and, you 
see, is worth a dozen dead people still.” 


226 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Mr. Sargent comes in one evening, rather discouraged 
about his plans. 

There is little use in sending to Manchester ; for the 
brothers will be careful not to criminate him (no doubt 
they have had their charges) : so we had better try at 
Edinburgh, he says. 

“ See here, Mr. Sargent,” and Theo pops up from the 
sofa, in her old, bright way : “I am going to tell a bit of 
mortifying truth. Misfortunes have multiphed with us, 
and riches (not that we ever had very much) have de- 
^jreased. My life at best is so uncertain, that I shall not 
^ave much spent in this search. If any thing can be done 
tfuite cheaply, well and good ; otherwise, I will go on under 
a oluud. I have grown quite used to it.” 

“ Eo not distress yourself, Theo,” with a smile. 

He cahs her Theo, as in the old days. He invariably 
addresses me as Miss Durant. 

Oddly enough, one day Mollie Henderson drops down 
upon me. Sue has written notes and notes, she says, and 
was seized with a misgiving that I was dead, and she 
wanted to know for sure. 

Her two notes, one to invite me to an opera, lie unan- 
swered in my writing-desk. Of course I have to explain a 
little. How good-hearted and sympathetic she is ! And, 
when she sees Theo’s drooping figure and lily face, she 
just takes her in her arms, and cries over her, and in the 
same breath begs her to come down for change of air and 
scene. They will all do their best. A friend of Portia’s 
keeps an elegant carriage ; and she shall go out dri\dng, 
and anywhere, — to concerts, theatres, dainty petit sou- 
pers; or just he on the sofa at home, roUed in an 
Afghan. 

Theo thanks her cordiaUy. Mr. Ross would be sure to 
find her in New York. 

“ Are you having any one make a search? ” 

“ Oh, we are too poor ! ” cries Theo, blushi^ig daintily. 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


227 


“ Did you ever hear of people who hved from hand to 
mouth? 

“We are in the same boat;’’ and Molhe laughs so 
heartily, that it is infectious. “Why, if we were called 
upon to pay all our debts at one time, there would be a 
red flag ornamenting our house, and a sheriflTs benison 
resting on naked walls and bare floors. But we make our 
butcher wait while we get a new gown ; and our baker, 
while we give a little party ; and our candlestick-maker, 
while we pay the other two. Sometimes we have a streak 
of luck, and sometimes nothing but pure fun. I’ve often 
thought how utterly absurd this ant and busy-bee busi- 
ness was. The bee slaves all summer to make honey, 
that some one may give him a dose of sulphur-fumes, and 
rob him of both hfe and honey. As for the ant — when 
it is all said and done, what does he amount to? One 
butterfly gives you more pleasure than a million of ant 
colonies. And I’m sure, when red ants get into your 
closets, they are enough to make any one profane who is 
not bound by the strictest moral principle. So we go in 
for good times, in spite of Solomon and his wisdom. 
When we have nothing else, we treat each other to this 
platitude: ‘Be good, and you will be happy, but you 
can’t have any fun.’ ” 

She shook her head with such a droll solemnity, that 
Theo laughed, while a rift of color came to her soft cheek. 

We kept Molhe to supper ; and she provided the feast 
of fun. Wouldn’t she stay all night? 

Oh, dear no ! She had a friend who was coming up to- 
night, at nine, with an article she must revise, — “Mr. 
McKnight, Chris,” nodding to me. “He begins to get 
along very well indeed,” with a touch of pride in her 
voice. “ Oh ! and you don’t know — I’ve taken to doing 
fashion articles, — think of it! — and am very successful 
too. That is all overwork. When you come down, we 
will have a feast.” 


228 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


What a waft of sunshine she has brought into our 
rather sad house ! Even mother has brightened up per- 
ceptibly. 

“ Oh ! just in the middle of her good-by — “ I beheve 
I do know something, Theo Ross, that may turn to your 
advantage. A friend of mine, a newspaper chap, is going 
abroad soon, and means to take a pedestrian turn through 
Scotland. Now he may be able to hunt up this, what- 
ever it is you want. Do you want it to be another wife, 
Mrs. Ross?’’ 

Theo sighs. “ I want the truth,” she answers. 

It is eight when Mollie leaves us. Half an hour after, 
Mr. Sargent calls. Something in his face thrills me. He 
just takes my hand, but bends over the sofa, where Theo 
is l3dng, completely tired out, yet not dispirited. 

“ My little girl,” he saj^s, ‘‘ I bring you good news at 
last. We have found the man ! ” 

Is it good news? Theo wipes away some tears, and 
her voice is low, unsteady. 

“ The man’s name is Quinlan. He is a sort of Scotch- 
Irishman, an iron-worker. He knew Mr. Ross in Edin- 
burgh. He was but twenty, it seems, when he was married, 
though the lady was nearly two j^ears older, and had some 
money. It was a runaway" match, but turned out badly. 
They lived at a ga^^ rate, and spent most of her money, 
and then quarrelled dreadfull}^ She had one child, a 
little bo3^ Mr. Ross left them, and came to this country. 
It seems her uncle — a queer old fellow, but quite rich — 
offered to make the boy his heir, and give her a home, if 
she would have nothing further to do with Mr. Ross. 
Six months ago Mr. Quinlan was home, and saw them. It 
is true Mr. Ross has written to her, and asked her to come 
to America ; but she refuses. Yet Mr. Quinlan thinks 
she cares a good deal about him.” 

Mr. Sargent utters this in a rapid tone, as if he were 
hardly sure it was pleasant tidings, after all. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


229 


Theo buries her face on the pillow. There is a little 
sob or two. 

“ The reading of one’s death-warrant may not be joyful 
news,” she says brokenly ; “ but it is best to have it over. 
When the daisies begin to bloom on one’s grave, it does 
not so much matter then.” 

“ Oh ! have I broken your heart ? ’ ’ and he looks strange- 
ly puzzled. 

“No,” she answers, catching his hand, “no: I shall 
feel stronger by and b}^ I would much rather have it 
that than an}" crime ; for now I shall be quite free, without 
any misgiving of conscience.” 

He announces that he has sent for Mr. Quinlan to come 
on to Northwood. 

“ I want to see him,” says Theo. 

He promises that she shall. 

There is not much more talk. We go up stairs pres- 
ently. 

“Don’t say any thing more to me,” cries Theo: “I 
cannot bear it to-night.” 

She crawls into my arms, poor stricken girl ! 

The next day she puts on all her bravery. 

“You are going to have me forever,” she says, — 
“ useless little thing ! But I can trim your hats, and make 
your dresses, if Dell doesn’t quite supersede me with her 
style and elegance.” 

Poor Dell’s birthday is at hand. Oh ! if I could only 
earn some money for her watch. 

I wonder often why God allowed us to have all this 
trouble for nought, it seems. What lesson can we ex- 
tract from it, that we did not know before? If Theo did 
not marry with the highest kind of love, it was from no 
purely selfish motives. 

One day aunt Hetty had been up again, bewailing mat- 
ters with brisk cheerfulness. Theo laughed as she related 
it to me. 


230 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


‘‘ The wise purpose in it seems to be made manifest to 
aunt Hetty,” she says rather droUy. “It is, that Chris 
should be punished, and James Miller avenged. And 
some wiser people draw almost as absurd a deduction.” 

The day is appointed for Mr. Quinlan to come ; and it is 
deemed best that Mr. Ross shall be present also. Theo 
writes, in answer to a week-old note, asking him to come 
on a certain evening. She wishes particularly to see him. 

“ I wonder if it is deceitful,” she says with a deprecat- 
ing look in her sweet eyes. She has such a keen sense of 
honor, that she would not treat a worm meanly. “Oh, I 
wish it were all over ! ” 

Mr. Quinlan arrives at noon at Mr. Sargent’s office. 
After some dinner, they come out to Cottage Place. 
Mother recognizes the man in an instant. 

He has some Old-World pecuharities and modes of 
speech ; but he seems very honest, with that stupid, blum 
dering honesty we find made so much of by certain 
writers for its humorous or picturesque effects. Stripped 
of its quaint comments, his story is this : The young 
woman. Miss Janet Carr, was still boarding in the family 
of her guardian, who were trying to induce her to marry 
their son. Alex Ross was a dashing young fellow, quite 
a favorite with ladies, but had not yet completed his time 
of apprenticeship in a chemical factory, where he was 
learning the business, though he looked very mature for 
his age. Being forbidden the privilege of calling upon 
Miss Carr, the couple met in secret, and laid their plans, 
and then disappeared. After a forthight’s absence, they 
returned, and commenced housekeeping. They were very 
gay and extravagant, and Mrs. Ross extremel3^ fond of 
attention, which led to frequent disputes, until their un- 
happiness became a matter of comment. Mr. Ross’s sister 
was married, and going to Australia ; and, now that their 
money was nearl^^ spent, he proposed they should seek 
their fortune in a newer world. She refused; and he 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


231 


threatened to go without her, but did not. A few months 
afterward, he left her, and came to America. When he 
had been here about two years, he sent for her. But, in the 
mean while, her father’s elder brother, a cranky bachelor, 
offered to make the child his heir, and give her a home, 
which she accepted. She refused to come to America ; but 
they corresponded for some time. Once afterward he 
asked her to come, threatening then to remarr}" if she did 
not. Mr. Quinlan had relatives Imng in the vicinity of 
the Carr estate, and had visited them the previous sum- 
mer. Mrs. Ross had called on him to ask about her hus- 
band, whom she had not then heard from in nearly three 
5^ears. She exhibited much interest in him, Mr. Quinlan 
thought. Old Mr. Carr was very poorly, and had become 
quite fond of his niece. That Mrs. Ross would never 
come to America was quite certain ; but after old Mr. 
Carr’s death, if Mr. Ross should return, he had no doubt 
they would make it up, Ross had grown so steady and 
changed like. 

Mr. Quinlan had come to Northwood with these tidings. 
“ Not that she begged me to tell him ; but I see by her 
face, and the sound of her voice when she said, ‘You’ll 
see Ross when you go back to America,’ that I was to let 
him know how matters stood. You see, her uncle was 
kind of sharp like, and wouldn’t allow followers ; and it 
had been rather dull for the poor thing. So when you 
told me, ma’am,” this to mother, “that he had married 
your daughter, I was struck suddenly ; for I’d been a-tell- 
ing Mrs. Janet that he never had married. When I come 
back that day, he rushed out to meet me, and carried me 
off. He were fearful angry, and he do have a main high 
temper of his own. He made me tell over and over again 
what had been said, and most accused me o’ Ijdng. Then 
he said, he’d been away seven year, and had a right to 
marry ; and I asked him, did he tell the girl how it was 
with him ? First he said he did ; then he said. No, he 


232 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


hadn’t, and that it would kill her to know. ‘ Well,’ 
said I, ‘ what’s to hinder some day, when you. get vexed 
and out o’ conceit wi’ her, packing up your traps, and 
going back to Mistress Janet, if she be free, and have 
money? ’ — ‘ Her good behavior,’ says he : ‘if she were 
such a fury as t’other one, I wouldn’t stay wi’ her.’ Then 
I argied, as there were no like o’ children, he ought to tell 
her how it were, and let her take her choice ; for it seemed 
main dangerous and unfair to me. Well, we went pretty 
high, a’most coming to blows ; and I said once, I would 
come and tell myself. Then he said he loved this one, your 
daughter, the best ; and he’d get a separation fra’ Mistress 
Janet, and that would make it all right ; and he bound me 
ower and ower again never to tell. He seemed so near 
to crazy, that I promised ; and that same evening he saw 
me on the train, safe started for home. It was along o’ 
my promise, that I didn’t speak when I first saw the notice 
in the paper. But after a while I went to inquire ; and 
the man told me you were in deep trouble, wanting to 
know whether there was a wife abroad, and, since it had 
come out, I felt free to speak.” 

“ Whom the gods destroy they first make mad.” This 
had been the case with Alex Ross. If he had come home 
careless and unconcerned, and accounted for the interview 
as a mere business- errand, our suspicions would have 
died away. But, oh ! how much better for Theo to be 
saved now than have this happen in after-years, when 
babies might be clinging to her knee. 

She listened to the story in a quiet, wondering fashion, 
asking a few questions, but showing less emotion than I 
had fancied she would. 

The legal point in all this was, that Mr. Quinlan knew 
nothing that would do us any absolute good. He did not 
know where they were married, and had never seen the 
certificate. That they were husband and wife, he had no 
doubt : indeed, under the easy Scottish laws, the publicity 
made the marriage valid. 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


233 


We waited, then, in a breathless sort of way. Would 
Mr. Ross come, or would some occult presentiment warn 
him? 

Eight o’clock sped by. Theo’s nerves seemed strained 
to their utmost, though she sat still, looking like a marble 
statue. Yes, a quick step, a ring, and Mr. Ross is 
ushered in the midst. 

I must admire the man’s supreme self-control. He does 
not flush : he may, perchance, grow a little paler, as his 
e3"es wander around the group, and settle upon his friend 
John Quinlan. But there comes into them such a blinding, 
blazing look of hatred, such utter, settled vindictiveness, 
as if he could tear him limb from limb, crush him, stamp 
upon him, grind him to powder in his fury. Ah, thank 
God that Theo will never have to face that ! though a 
tyrant has fallen to many a good woman’s lot before 
this. 

Mr. Sargent goes briefly over the case. Mr. Ross 
listens in a bravado of contempt, his handsome hps 
parted into a half- smile. Then he steps forward a little. 

“ Mr. Quinlan,” he says with the very irony of calm- 
ness, “ were you present at my marriage, or did 3"ou ever 
have speech with an}^ one who was ? ’ ’ 

“No,” hesitatingly, and nervously picking the edge of 
his coat. 

“ Did you ever see my marriage-lines ? ” 

“ No ; but 3"Ou must have been married.” 

Talk about the consciousness of guilt ! Mr. Quinlan 
might be guilt personifled ; Mr. Ross, triumphant truth. 
His attitude is brave, fearless ; his face full of haughty 
disdain, one foot half crossed over the other, and his tall, 
fine figure displajdng the superb ease of indifference. 

“Then, Mr. Quinlan,” in a measured voice, “ j'ou 
know nothing about it ! I have no wife but Theo Durant, 
whom I married in St. John’s Church. Would I have 
dared to do such a thing publicly, where any one might 


234 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


rise and forbid it ? Do you think me fool enough to run 
such a risk? 

No, he does not look like it. Ah, God ! what if Theo 
is still his lawful, miserable wife. 

“You lived with her. You passed her off as your 
wife. You had a child ! ” Quinlan cries indignantly. 

“ That may all be. Men have done that before.” 

Theo comes forward whiter than any ghost, if such a 
thing can be. There is a startled, piteous look in her 
face, terror-stricken, yet brave enough to endure this last 
ordeal. 

“ Good-by, Alex.” She folds her own little hands behind 
her. “It is over with us forever. Thank God 1 there 
is no little child to suffer or be shamed.” 

Then like a wraith she glides out of the room. 

“You will rue this to the latest day of your life!” 
fairly shouts Mr. Ross, thrusting his fist in Mr. Quinlan’s 
face. 

“ Not in my house ! ” and father stands between. 

He glares at us all. The old insouciance is gone. He 
may be a fiend now, with his burning black eyes. Oh, 
thank God again that Theo is safe ! 

Mr. Sargent announces, that if he molests any of the 
Durant family hereafter, or even annoys them, he will be 
dealt with according to law. Legal steps will be taken to 
free Mrs. Ross. 

He turns, and goes. It is not a year yet since Theo 
was a bride. 


CHAPTER XX. 


** Yet for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange.” 

Winter’s Taee. 

Theo took the last of this tragedy very calmly. I 
think Mr. Ross’s utter heartlessness about his wife and 
cliild helped her. She was extremely weak and delicate, 
not able to sit up all day, but very sweet and cheerful. 

We made no secret of the cause now. Some parties 
affected to disbelieve ; others knew it from the very be- 
ginning, of course, and could tell all the particulars, with 
names and dates and places left out. Still another class 
insisted, that, after seven years, he had a right to marry, 
and that Theo was the lawful wife, not the other. Now 
and then some one absurdly said, “ But do you not think 
if you had gone away from home it would have been dif- 
ferent ? It alwa3"S does make trouble when married chil- 
dren undertake to live at home.” 

Aunt Hetty used to tell us very kindly what people said. 
Martha Miller certainly was in the way of hearing unhm- 
ited quantities of gossip. 

During holiday week I found some copying to do, and 
earned twenty dollars. I had twenty of my own ; and 
part of Archie’s was in the bank. Through Molhe Hen- 
derson, or rather Mrs. Rutherford, I had an opportunity 
to buy a most beautiful watch for seventy dollars, the first- 
cost of which had been one hundred and twenty-five. I 
felt that Dell’s money was an honest debt, an Old Man 
of the Sea to me, unt^I it was paid. It was grandmoth- 

235 


236 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


er’s bequest for just that article, and no other, and sacred 
in my eyes. And, while it might look extravagant in our 
present poverty, it did appear right. So Dell was made 
very happy. 

“ I had serious thoughts of giving her mine,*' saidTheo. 
“ If I had died, it would have been hers. Chrissie, there 
is a little memorandum in mother’s box, — the one father 
made for grandmother when he first went to his trade ; 
and if, some day, I should not be here, I want you to 
attend to the few requests.” 

I promised, with tearful eyes. She had come to look 
upon death as such a possible event, that it seemed only 
like going on a journey. Ah, how sweet, tender, and 
cheerful she was ! Could we ever part with her ? 

MoUie Henderson brought her friend Mr. Chapman 
over. He was a bright, pleasant young man, expecting 
to leave New York in February, and spend some three or 
four months in Scotland, writing up the rivers, sketching 
the scenery, and hunting up quaint old legends. He 
would be very glad to undertake this little charge for us, 
and it would be no trouble, — a real source of interest 
instead. So we gave him the few facts and names. 

Mr. Ross subsided with one threat, — “If ever Theo 
dared to marry again, the new lover had better beware : 
that was all.” 

“ I shall never marry again,” said Theo with a weary 
sigh. “ I have had enough of matrimony for a lifetime. 
O Chris ! ” with the quick alternation of mood so char- 
acteristic of her, “ do you remember how, in the naughty 
impertinence of youth, we used to call the Misses Dayton 
‘old maids’? We shall be old maids ourselves, or 
almost. I guess I will keep my married name for the 
‘eminent respectability ’ of the thing. Perhaps it is 
better to have loved and lost than to have had no husband 
at all.” 

All this time, while we were so occupied with our own 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


237 


sorrows and perplexities, stirring events had been going 
on : the victorious march of Sherman, — has it not been 
said and sung? — the steady, invincible persistence of 
Grant, the crowning close of all, and that higher crown 
of martyrdom that was a pall thrown over the general 
rejoicing. Archie was alive, and would come home ! 

We had tried at first to keep Theo’s sorrow from 
Archie ; but some careless friend had mentioned it. 
“ There was but one fit punishment for him,” wrote 
Archie, “ to be shot down hke a dog.” But we had 
resolved to leave all that to God. The past was past with 
us. 

Miss Newby went on to the grand review ; uncle Rob- 
ert and aunt Clara also, and hosts of other friends. If 
I could have joined them ! 

“It is too bad!” declared Theo. “Couldn’t you 
some way ? Why, I would borrow the money. Now if 
aunt Clara only had asked you I ” 

I suppose they would hardly have felt the expense, in 
their lavish method of spending money. If rich people 
could understand how much happiness they might give, 
and be but little poorer themselves ! 

It was not to be thought of, however. Our interest 
had been met ; but the coal-bill was still unpaid. That 
was our only debt. 

We cleaned our house, and freshened it up with bits of 
prettiness. There were two nice chambers in the attic, 
one of which had been Archie’s before he went away ; but 
we meant to honor him with the guest-room now. We 
covered him a great arm-chair in bright, delicate chintz ; 
we made him a foot-rest ; father put up a httle wall cabi- 
net for any curiosities he might bring home, altered and 
polished up his old writing-desk, fitting a convenient book- 
rack to the top. Theo was so much interested ! Almost 
four years since he left us. Last Christmas he was 
twenty-four ; in June I should be twenty-two. 


238 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


He came at last, late in May, captain by brevet, and 
honorably mustered out of service. A tall, thin, worn- 
looking man, martial in aspect, gay, off-hand, ready with 
jokes and brightness ; and — oh, best of all ! — ready with 
love and interest and tenderness. 

^‘When Archie comes home.” How many times we 
had said it during the last two years ! Now he was here : 
we could feast our hungry e3"es. 

Yet some way he was not the Archie of the old days. 
The round-faced, whistling, teasing boy was gone forever. 
The inevitable change brought a pathetic sadness to moth- 
er. I think the bygone Archie came to be a treasure 
laid up in heaven beside little Joe. 

But he was not our only captain. There was Roger 
Palmer, who looked as if war had agreed with him. He 
imd Dell had the parlor now. We used to put on extra 
coughs and shuffles when we had to go in ; and somehow 
we could not refrain from teasing them. 

“ I can’t think of a marriage at present,” said mother 
to Roger. “ We must have time to get over Theo’s 
sorrow ; and then Dell is so young ! ’ ’ 

“ I will not ask you for your ‘ wee birdie ’ yet a while. 
I am going to look about, and make some money. My 
opinion is, that there will be some pretty good chances in 
the next few years. I want a charming nest, and leis- 
ure to enjoy it. I’d like it to be a little in the country, 
a fancy farm, for instance ; ” and he laughed. “ A pony 
for Dell to drive about, a saddle-horse for myself, chickens 
and cows and flowers, and crops, I suppose, and money in 
the bank to live on, — how will that suit you, Della? ” 

“Oh, I should like it above aU things! ” and Dell is 
enchanted by the picture. 

“ The little goose ! ” says Theo. “ She has no mind 
and no desires of her own. If he said a cottage in the 
moon, she would clap her hands, and begin to calculate 
the length of rope-ladder stairs to drop down to earth 
on the da vs we were expected to tea»” 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


239 


Uncle Robert was quite proud of “ my nephew, Capt. 
Durant. ’ ^ Aunt Clara was very much taken up with styhsh 
living and her fashionable friends. She was exceedingly 
sorry for Theo’s misfortunes ; she could hardly believe it 
of such a fine, honorable-looking man as Mr. Ross : and 
she sent Theo some elegant applique lace and a beautiful 
emerald ring. How much more sensible it would have 
been to have bought her a pretty summer silk, which 
would not have cost any more, and been of real service, 
or if she had asked Theo to go with her for a nice sum- 
mering ! She took so many pleasures ! 

I must not forget to mention that Jack Rutherford, 
Mollie Henderson’s hke noir^ was both distinguished and 
extinguished in the last of the Richmond encounters, — 
covered with glory, and buried with the honors of war. 
That he had been a brave soldier, no one could deny. 
His superior officer had said of him, he would rather have 
Jack Rutherford drunk than almost any other man sober : 
so poor Jack’s evil habit clung to him to the very last. 
He did his country good service ; and his wife needed not 
to blush for his death. 

She arrayed herself in the deepest of sables and the cost- 
liest of crape, and was a lovely widow in all the odor of 
sanctity ; no questionable divorce. Toodles ran about in 
broad black sashes : black stockings had not yet come in. 

We all went down one summer day to a “ tea ” — one 
of Mollie Henderson’s own — given in our honor, or in 
honor of the two captains. I should have called it a 
grand party. Mr. Henderson was present in spotless 
array, and princely of mien ; Mrs. Henderson in black 
silk, velvet, and lace ; Portia in crape and black lisse ; Jo 
and Ad fairy nymphs in white ; Percy in pale pink ; and 
Mollie as nondescript as ever. She must have had taste, 
and she did understand the fine art of dressing ; but she 
was guiltless of its practice. 

There were literary, musical, and artistic people ; there 


240 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


was some delicious music from piano, flute, and violin ; 
there were jests and laughter. Kathleen Mavourneen, 
Robin Adair, and various old ballads, were sung as one 
rarely hears them. But the house was not ‘ ‘ tidied up ’ ’ 
a bit. Books and music lay around on chairs or on the 
floor ; a neck-tie was folded in a book of photographs ; 
some rather disreputable light gloves seemed to have 
strayed around like lost kittens, curled themselves up, and 
gone to sleep complacently. What matter ? There were 
flowers, music, jollity, the delicacies of the season to eat, 
and such a grand good time ! 

I believe I have omitted Reggy. This was the only 
time I ever saw all the family together ; and they were 
piquant to a degree. A charming widow had him in tow. 
That is a vulgarism ; but it just expresses it. He appeared 
to me to be one of those attractive, irresiDonsible sort of 
men, who are born without any strong characteristics of 
their own, and seem to slip easily and gracefully into any 
ready-made mental attire ; only the misfortune is, they slip 
out as easily, and require constant looking after. 

Mollie gave me a little insight into the affair. 

“ One of the rich Morgans,” she said, as we ran up 
stairs for a bit of rest and confidence, — “old Peter 
Morgan’s widow ; and there’s no end to the monej" ! 
Reggy will be so lucky, if her fancy only lasts ! We all 
think he ought to strike now. She is only twenty-four, and 
as sweet-tempered as an angel. I couldn’t bear to think 
of Regg}" marrying a sharp, shrewish thing, he is so sensi- 
tive and gentle himself, and so pleasant to get along with. 
I don’t believe he ever gave an}" one a cross word. She 
has an elegant house at Newport ; and she’s asked Portia 
and Reggy for the summer. I hope Portia will keep 
spurring him up, and that it will be settled by fall. 
Does not Portia look just angelic in black? I declare, I 
can forgive Jack Rutherford every thing for dying just as 
he did.” 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


241 


Mrs. Morgan assumed a new interest in my eyes. I 
wished devoutly that Reggy would not notice Theo so 
much. She did finally take refuge under the wing of a 
ruddy, handsome young German, who talked very broken- 
ly, blushed a great deal, and yet was so gayly good- 
humored over his blunders. What a contrast they wei’e ! 
Twilight and sunshine, — she with her dusky, shadowy 
grace ; he with the broad, healthful, exuberant nature, the 
red blood shining through the fair skin, the golden tawny 
hair that was not red, but had the glitter of spun silk, the 
frank light blue eyes, the dimpled chin and white throat, 
and the odd, waxed mustache. He escorted her to sup- 
per, and indeed hovered about her until it was time for us 
to say good-night, as we were to return in a midnight 
train. 

Mollie was to go off presently to do fashionable watering- 
places, in the interest of several newspapers ; Percy was 
to take another tour at canvassing ; Jo had been promoted 
to photograph-coloring; and Ad was to keep house, and 
look after “ ma so they disposed around. 

“You don’t mean,” said Archie, “that, bright and 
smart and entertaining as Mollie Henderson is, she is 
engaged to that little chap McKnight ? ’ ’ 

“ Isn’t it queer?” rejoined Theo. “And yet she is just 
the kind of girl to be always bringing up somebody. 
She wouldn’t know how to be taken care of ; but she can 
always be taking care. He is just as proud of her as he 
can be ; and she is more ambitious for him than for her- 
self.” 

“ Yes,” I said, “beside her own work, she goes over 
most of his. He gets discouraged sometimes, and thinks 
he has no genius ; and she stakes him up all round, as one 
does a flower, and talks him into believing he can do 
almost any thing. She has such boundless faith in any 
one’s possibilities, that it is really inspiriting to be with 
her.” 


242 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


‘ ‘ And nothing can be more amusing than their scram- 
bling method of getting along,” laughed Theo. “I 
shouldn’t think they could ever find any thing. Adrienne 
was hunting the house over for a pair of bronze kid slip- 
pers ; and where do you suppose she found them ? She 
remembered suddenly that she had taken them off in the 
librar}^, and stuck them behind a picture, so she wouldn’t 
forget where they were. Jo went down to get them ; and 
two gentlemen were studpng that very picture. She 
could not wait for them to go away, but pulled out the 
slippers with the utmost sang froicl. It is their utterly 
unconcerned manner of doing awkward things, and their 
triumphant indifference to consequences, that is so absurd- 
ly funny.” 

Archie and Roger had enjoyed them very much ; and, 
although Theo was so tired that she had to lie on the sofa 
all the next day, she kept rehearsing little bits of fun for 
mother’s entertainment. It was the first time she had 
been out in company since the early part of her mar- 
riage. 

Mr.' Chapman had found and sent the desired informa- 
tion. Mr. Ross’s marriage had been a kind of irregular 
one, but sufficiently legal to satisfy Scottish laws. He 
sent home an attested copy of the record ; and, after much 
persuasion, Mrs. Ross was induced to give an affidavit. 
So, then, Theo was free beyond any doubt. A year or so 
afterward, we heard Mr. Ross had returned to England ; 
and from our hearts we wished him hon voyage. It was 
our last tidings of him. 

When matters were somewhat settled, we took a survey 
of our circumstances. Vacation had begun for Dell and 
myself. We were out of debt just now, and I had some 
thirty odd dollars ; but one or two new dresses were an 
urgent necessity. There was father’s nine dollars a week. 

“ It seems too bad that the business had to be given 
up,” declared Archie, “ and the house mortgaged ! What 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


243 


a brave little Trojan have been, Chrissie, to stand in 
the breach ! I must take my turn now, get a good situa- 
tion somewhere, and clear the house, first of all, for dear 
little mother. Then I shall look out for some business that 
father and I can manage together. He has broken a good 
deal, I can plainly see.’’ 

How he inspirited us all ! 

Father did not take a very hopeful view of the times. 
The country was terribly in debt, the currency inflated to 
an alarming extent, the South prostrate, the men of the 
country — the real bone and sinew — left buried in trenches, 
or maimed and wounded in hospitals. Taxes must be 
high, and true prosperity he thought a long way off. We 
must be content for a good many years with small endeav- 
ors, and thank God that we had a country left. 

Yet there was a decided stir in business-circles. Money 
appeared to be plenty. Some people were already very 
rich. There were inquiries for property, for business- 
chances ; and the streets began to be full of men again. 
Many of the officers had saved up a little, or made it some 
way, and were looking about for investments. 

We had a rather quiet but delightful summer. I decided 
not to go away anywhere : I could not afford it, when it 
came to that. The “boys,” Archie’s old schoolmates 
and friends, kept dropping in with talk and congratula- 
tion. A number had been in the army ; some were mar- 
ried ; and a few were still jolly lads. We used to take 
walks up to Melrose woods, with our dinners, in true 
picnic fashion, and ramble about, or lie on the grass in the 
half sun, half shade ; then we indulged in long rows on 
the river, and horse-car trips, that were nice, but not 
costly. We had simple little teas at home : we had learned 
not to make a great fuss over two or three old friends. 
We spent evenings on the porch, singing, and talking 
over old times. 

“ Chris, remember my priceless words of wisdom,” 
Archie would say : “ ‘ There’s no place like home.’ ” 


244 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


He used to lie on the bed a good deal in his room, with 
the door open between ; or sometimes come and stretch 
himself out on our floor while we sewed. 

“ I wonder if you will never get stout again,” I used 
to say. “ You are so dreadfully thin, Archie ! ” 

“ I gave my flesh, like my heroism, to the countr}^, 
Chris. Could patriotism do more? ” and he would laugh 
gayly. 

He had a cough too, which he declared was nothing. 
A little rest, and the appliances of civilization, would soon 
set him up straight. A chill foreboding used to wring my 
heart. What if all these bright plans for the future should 
come to nought ! 

MoUie and Jo Henderson ran over to spend three days ; 
and such gala-days as they were ! — those absurd, laugha- 
ble, inconsequent girls, who had a good time to-day, no 
matter what happened to-morrow. They had been in so 
many amusingly ‘‘ tight places,” as Jo termed them, the 
heroines of so many funny adventures ! Jo would wipe 
dishes for mother, and then asked her in a very solemn 
fashion if she couldn’t have Archie. The two flirted 
desperately, in a frank, unabashed manner quite refreshing 
to behold. 

We heard another astounding bit of news this summer. 
Mrs. Dayton came over to tell us in great confidence that 
Alfred was engaged to a lovely young girl, the daughter 
of a missionary, whose sainted mother was dead, and her 
father married again. Alfred had met her at the house of 
the president of the theological seminary ; and Mrs. Day- 
ton had known her mother. It would be quite a long 
engagement ; but they were all so delighted with it ! In- 
deed, they already loved the sweet girl, and could take 
her at once to their hearts. 

Mrs. Dayton had been very cordial since Theo’s misfor- 
tune. It is astonishing how the misfortune of your neigh- 
bors does bring out your Christian resignation. She 


FEOM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


245 


treated us to a serene and amiable tolerance. We had been 
sinners above all men : at least Theo had ; and direful 
punishment had overtaken her, as Mrs. Dayton always 
knew it would. A fearful warning, that might be turned 
to excellent account ; a moral and instructive discipline, 
that Theo had needed very much, on account of her levity. 
She hoped to see Theo a bright example of truth and the 
meek and quiet spirit that so adorned womanhood. 

“ I am not aware that the falsehood or the wrong-doing 
was mine,” returned Theo spiritedly. “ The only lesson 
I see in it is, not to put your faith in men. If an angel 
from heaven made love to me now, I should doubt his pro- 
testations.” 

“ Theo, I am afraid 3^ou do not take your trials in a 
spirit of meekness,” with a severe and virtuous shake of 
the head. 

“ I do not see what call there is for meekness ; ” and 
Theo’s eyes flashed dangerously. “A man commits a 
crime against the laws of the land, — a cruel, bitter sin 
against a j'oung girl. Would you have me gloss it over, 
and say it was right? Did Abel sufier for his own sin, or 
Cain’s?” 

Mrs. Dayton stared. Her theology was one of special 
judgments, not the innocent suffering for the guilty. 

The missionary’s daughter came to visit her lover’s 
famity ; and one evening Mrs. Dajdon walked down to our 
porch with Miss Beulah Atkinson, and introduced her, — 
a soft, fair, languishing girl, with a die-away air, and a 
voice with an exasperating little drawl ; the kind of girl 
who clings, and kisses, and can never seem to stand alone. 

“Just the sort of woman I hate,” says Archie deci- 
sively. “The woman who will never meet you in a 
square, stand-up fight, but nags and cries, and makes a 
martyr of herself.” 

“But her husband will be a minister, not a soldier,” 
says Theo. “ There is to be no fighting.” 


246 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“Poor Alf! I’m not sure but be would have had a 
better show with you, Theo.” 

“ He has no backbone, no will : he is too yielding, too 
anxious to please. He should have been a woman 
instead ; and one of the girls would have made a better 
man. But oh, I do hope he may be happy ! — happiness 
is such a blessed thing. Oh, I wonder if, beside forgiv- 
ing our neighbors, we ought not to pray that they may be 
happy.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


** I cannot but remember such things were, 

That were most precious to me.” — Macbeth. 

The summer is over, and we are all hard at work. 
Archie has a position as book-keeper, at a thousand a j^ear. 
Our united income is about forty-three dollars a week. 
Coal has gone up a trifle : meat, flour, and butter hold their 
own wonderfully. Dry-goods of home manufacture are 
not quite as high : indeed, cotton goods are on the dechne. 
We venture to treat ourselves to some muslin for house 
purposes, a few new gowns ; and they aU insist I must 
have a new set of furs. Mine are very shabby. Shoes 
are terribly expensive ; the low-priced being like Jeremiah’s 
figs, — very poor indeed. We notice that there are so few 
nice middling-class articles. You must get good, and pay 
a high price ; for your poor fades, frays, turns shabby, and 
goes to pieces. It costs more to live, and you have less 
that is really satisfying. I cannot think of giving two 
dollars and a half for gloves : so I buy a pair for one dol- 
lar and a quarter. The first time I put them on, one tears 
out around the thumb, and splits down the back : the other 
remains aggravatingly whole. 

“ Never mind,” I say, much tried. “ I can carry one 
hand in my muff. Or I can put on my mittens, and pull 
one oflT ; and who is to know there is no glove under the 
other? ” With that I rear my head triumphantly. 

Then I indulge myself in a new, pretty balmoral, at two 
dollars, — gray with a dainty scarlet border. In a month 

247 


248 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


it looks suspicious ; in two months it drops to pieces. 
Shoddy, of course. A pair of stout winter boots crack, 
and come to grief. 

“ I wouldn’t buy any more cheap things, Chris,” says 
Theo. “ They do cost more in the end.” 

But ought I to give seven dollars for a pair of boots, 
just as Mrs. James Miller does? 

Old Mr. Miller dies this winter. There are eight chil- 
dren, and quantities of real estate. That is looking up. 
Stephen and James, when affairs come to be settled, buy 
out the sisters’ portion at a fair valuation. 

“ Why not put their money in government bonds ! ” Qjry 
the wise-acres. “ Taxes are going to be enormous. And 
when we come back to specie pa^unents ; when gold falls, 
as it must ” — 

But countries with a large national debt are always 
prosperous. You lend to the government, and it pays you 
good interest. The money keeps going back and forth ; 
and somehow — 

Ah ! nobody can see quite how. Promises to pay are so 
much more easil}^ made than the payment itself. 

We do not seem to get very rich ; but we are thankful it 
is no worse. Archie has resolved to save at least thirty 
dollars a month. He insists that mother shall take seven 
dollars a week for his board. That leaves him twenty dol- 
lars a month for clothes and sundries. Mother will have 
none of Dell’s ; and it is being saved up for a nice silk. 
We economize in every way ; use cheap, plain desserts, very 
little cake, and have come to buying inexpensive pieces of 
meat, so that they are fresh and good. Mother does man- 
age to make delightful stews and soups and roasts. About 
the holidays, father orders a great box of poultiy from the 
country. The cost of freight makes it only sixteen cents 
a pound, while it is selling at twenty-five in the market. 
He looks out for bargains everywhere. If we only can 
get the house clear once more ! 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


249 


Not tliat we grow narrow and sordid. We have a Shak- 
speare Club ; we hold pleasant neighborhood sociables ; go 
to a few concerts and lectures. Archie is our beau. We 
love him so very much ! He is so old-fashioned, so 
quaintly tender! Roger is off “out West,” and writes 
often. Dell amuses us by her planning. 

“ I am going to make up sheets and pillow-slips by de- 
grees,” she says, “and buy towels and table-linen. 
Mother had so much when she was married.” 

She is such an industrious little thing ! She is making 
a cookery book, too, trying recipes floating round in news- 
papers ; and, when she gets them just to suit her, they are 
neatly written down, besides various useful hints and sug- 
gestions pertaining to household matters. 

“In two years I shall be twenty, and that will be plenty 
young enough to begin married life. O girls, how nice 
it will be to have you visit me ! Chris, I wonder if you 
are to teach school always.” 

“I dare say,” I reply. “Miss Newby is still at it; 
and she is handsome and noble and good.” 

“ But she lost her lover.” 

I could cry out, “And I have lost mine.” I know 
now there are keener, harder trials than death, sad as it is. 
I must keep silent, always. 

Theo is bright, and in good spirits. A tint of her lovety 
color has come back ; but she looks taller, slenderer, and 
changed in some inexplicable way. “Quite well,” she 
says to everybody ; yet I know of the sleepless nights, of 
the sudden, agonizing gasps for breath, of a strange shiver 
that runs over her, and a mysterious sound in her throat, 
that makes me cold with fear lest the last time has come. 

One evening we attend some tableaux. A gentleman 
and two ladies take the seat behind us. I know who they 
are ; and m}^ face flushes, my breath comes in bounds. 

A hand touches me gently. “ Miss Durant, Mrs. 
Ross,” says the low, grave voice. 


250 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


We both turn. 

“ My wife would like so to make your acquaintance,” 
he continues ; and then he introduces Mrs. Sargent to us. 

I have seen her on the street and in a carriage, — a 
large, fair, gracious-looking woman, who gives you the 
idea of supreme satisfaction. She is in elegant black 
silk, India shawl, diamonds, thread-lace, and a priceless 
plume in her hat. Her gloves fit exquisitely. The lace 
around her throat is finest Valenciennes, and in attire she 
is rich and perfect. She bends over, and says in that 
low, exquisitely well-bred tone, which is not a whisper, — 

“ I am so glad to meet you, Mrs. Ross ! I have taken 
an extremely warm interest in 3^ou, beheve me. Why, 
what a very child 3"OU are ! ” 

Theo blushes and smiles. Occasionally during the 
evening, in the pauses, we have bits of talk. And when 
it is over, as we are walking down the aisle, she inquires 
if she ma^" call upon us. “ Mr. Sargent asked me to last 
winter,” she sa^^s; “but I could not endure any thing 
that savored of impertinent curiosity.” 

Theo answers that she ma^", without making any apology 
about the difference of station or style. Mr. Sargent 
talks to Archie in a friendly manner. 

“ Shall 3^ou care, Chris? ” Theo asks earnestly. 

“ No,” I say honestly and truty. 

She does call a few da3"s after that. Theo is not feel- 
ing ver3" well ; and Mrs. Sargent insists that she shall take 
a drive with her. A while after, she comes around and 
asks us to spend the evening. Theo is much better upon 
this occasion, and repa3"s the hospitality in some most 
delightful music. I sit and think how strange it is, — his 
house, and I a guest therein. 

I know then, b3’ an intuition natural to women, that he 
has never confessed the episode between us ; not from 
any fear, or desire to stand well with her, but because, 
when he returned to his duty and allegiance to her, he 


FBOM HAKD TO MOUTH. 


251 


resolved that nothing should mar the harmony of their 
life together. He is a kind, courteous, gentlemanly hus- 
band, attending his wife with lover-like devotion ; and yet 
he never was, never will be, a lover to her. She could not 
comprehend the heats and passions and jealous longings 
of love. Mindful of every thing connected with her posi- 
tion as his wife, attentive to his comfort, divining indeed 
the little ways he enjoys about a house, watching that the 
servants keep his clothes in order, that his books are just 
where he likes them on the library-table, that, if he wants 
to write of an evening, he shall not be disturbed, no 
sooner by her, than any chance, intrusive visitor, — a life 
just mapped out flat, with no delicious, suggestive per- 
spective ; a curious living on the outside, no inward 
emotions and perplexities. She would never say sharp, 
cross things to him : he would never leave her in a hufl*, 
and come home by mid-afternoon to And her in a bewitch- 
ing fit of penitence, to kiss, and make friends, and go out 
for a stroll, buying some trifle to mark that particular day. 
He can live the grave, self-contained life ; but, oh ! what 
if his pulses had been quickened by the other to run 
through the octave of joy ! 

We had a pleasant evening, and promised to come again. 
She was not the kind of woman to feel that she let her- 
self down to a school-teacher ; and I honored her for that. 
She would have nodded to me out of her carriage if the 
queen had been driving with her. 

I thought this : Theo said it as we were going to bed. 
I knew then I could have taken him without breaking her 
heart. At first the knowledge would have rent my soul 
with a throe of anguish ; but now I simply accepted the 
fact. It was too late to alter any thing. 

We went on in a quietly happy way until the very last 
of March. It had been a wild, blustering week, inter- 
spersed with hail and rain, snow and rain, and very trying 
generally. Two nights Archie had coughed dreadfully. 


252 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


He laughed, and said he had ordered some “ grand Asiatic 
panticurial, life-prolonging cordial,” which was to restore 
to health even the man “whose sands of life had run out.’ 

There was a carriage at the door when I came home. 
Strange voices were in the sitting-room. What had 
befallen Archie, lying there on the old sofa, pale as a 
ghost ! 

Dr. Sheldon came striding in. Everj^body was sent 
to the right about, only mother remaining. 

“ O Theo ! what has happened ? ” and I clutched her 
arm with a deathly sinking of soul. 

“Archie — he has had a hemoiThage. They brought 
him home.” 

Then we went up stairs, with our arms over each other’s 
shoulders, and, pausing at his door, wept passionately. 

“ Oh ! have we not had sorrows enough? ” I cried. 

Mother came up, opened his bed, brought a little table 
and a towel-rack beside it ; and presentl}" some strong 
arms bore him carefully to his room, and laid him on the 
bed. Mother and the doctor were left alone with him. 

It had been terrible ; and he was very low. No one 
could tell yet. 

It remained that way for a week, life hanging by a 
thread. Then he rallied, improved, and began to talk a 
httle. Oh, how wan and pale ! the hands shrunken and 
white enough now, though we had laughed at him last sum- 
mer because they were so brown. 

Everybody was very kind. Even Mr. Sargent insisted 
upon sitting up ; and Archie liked him so much. Flowers 
were sent in, and hot-house fruits. 

“ It was quite worth being sick,” he said in his weak, 
smihng way. 

A month afterward we listened with comparative calm- 
ness to the doctor’s fiat. 

His lungs had doubtless been affected some time : one 
was in a very critical state. Still a good deal could be 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


253 


done by change of air. If he were to go West, — Minne- 
sota, Colorado. 

“ Doctor,” he says solemnly, “ do you think any thing 
can make a well man of me once more ? ’ ’ 

Dr. Sheldon flushes, turns pale, and averts his eyes. 
Ah ! is there a doom in them ? 

“ I will talk candidly : mother and the girls shall judge. 
‘ All that a man hath will he give for his hfe ; ’ and mine is 
sweet to me. I am young to go out of the bright, joyous 
world ; and I am needed too. I ought to live to be fa- 
ther’s mainstay. If I could get well, I would not hesi- 
tate to exile myself, to spend every penny we have ; for, 
in the years to come, I could make it good. But I do 
doubt. The fatal seeds were sown too long ago, — on 
battle-fields, in midnight watches and marches, intrenches, 
and elsewhere. I give my life as truly for my country" as 
if a buUet had caused the hemorrhage. If it is true that I 
only have a few months more, I would rather spend them 
here than to go ofl* alone. For four years, you know, I 
was shut out of home, of tenderness, of sisters’ faces, of 
mother’s voice. If we could all go ! ” 

Ah ! if one could be rich. If we could spend our money 
lavishly, like uncle Robert ; if we might all go and try, 
comfort our darling, if the worst came. Money seems 
such a blessed thing to me just now, and poverty such a 
hard, bitter trial ! 

“ But we cannot. Girls, is the chance worth taking? ” 
“ There, there ! ” says the doctor, blowing his nose for 
an excuse to use his handkerchief, “you’re all excited 
now. We will think it over.” 

It seems to me that we are aU awfully, solemnly calm. 
It is such a terrible question. 

We do think it over. May comes in bland and beauti- 
ful. Archie walks about, comes down stairs, takes an 
interest in the garden and the flowers, and is strangely 
cheerful. Aunt Clara evinces a cordial interest, carries 


254 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Archie home with her to see a physician in whom she has 
the greatest faith. His hfe might be prolonged years, 
perhaps, by care and travel, and an easy, untroubled ex- 
istence. Money again. 

While we are talking and considering, and counting the 
cost of this journey and that, without any apparent cause 
or over-exertion another attack comes on, not so severe 
as the first ; but it dashes down our fragile cup of hope. 

“ I shall stay at home for the summer,” says Archie 
calmly. ‘‘ If the prospect is bright, I will go to Florida in 
the fall. Will you mind waiting upon me, girls ? We had 
such a nice gay time last year, didn’t we ? Oh ! when have 
you heard from Mollie Henderson ? Why didn’t I think 
to call upon her when I was in New York? ” 

I write to Mollie to come out, if she can spare the time. 
Our last tidings of her were, that Reggy had had a pic- 
ture put in chromo, which was a wonderful success ; and 
that he really was going to marry the widow. 

She answered the letter in person, full of business and 
importance, and the old irresistible drollery. Reggy was 
married at last. The joke of the thing was going to 
church quietly, and being married without any fuss, and 
then giving a grand swell reception. And now they have 
gone to take the orthodox tour, — Europe. Reggy would 
paint something wonderful, and step into fame. But they 
missed him so much ! They had been together all their 
lives. And, oh ! Johnny McKnight had a fine position, 
was getting twenty-five dollars a week, and doing just 
splendidly. 

Then she sent Archie a great budget of books and pa- 
pers. Aunt Clara invited him to Newport. Why could 
she not as well have asked Theo or me ? 

I was so glad to have vacation ! 

Ah, the sweet, fair, lingering summer ! There were 
cooling showers that freshened the face of nature, tran- 
quil nights for sleeping, and a brooding quiet that was 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


255 


almost heaven itself. We gave up talking of what might 
be : we lived day by day. Archie was so fond of music ; 
and Theo played, and sang soft, tender songs through 
dreamy twilights. One and another called in. Mrs. 
Sargent used to come to take him to diive. We all 
thought it so good of her. And, when she went away, 
the carriage was placed at our disposal, Mr. Sargent mak- 
ing friendly calls. 

We felt there would be no Florida for our darling. He 
just grew weaker, thinner, coughing nights, and having a 
touch of hectic fever in the day. Yet he kept around, and 
enjoyed every little bit of fun. 

Especially one day we went down to New York to see 
some pictures, and by accident met Jo Henderson, who 
would take us home. Mrs. Rutherford was off on some 
gay jaunt. Jo, with the family frankness towards us, 
confessed that she had a lover, — a rich old bachelor, 
whom half New York had been trying to catch. 

“Men are so queer!” declared Jo oracularly. “He 
sort of half asked her to marry him ; and she refused 
plump and plain, though she wanted him desperately all 
the while. He was so amazed, you see, that it stirred 
hi m all up, just as if a mild-faced lamb had suddenly 
given him a ferocious plump over the fence. He came 
down here to see her, and she made Percy stay in the 
room. It was as good as. a play. Then she started 
off to Saratoga, and he after her ; and I know it will 
make a match. I hate to have 'em all marrjdng off so I ” 

“ But does she really care for him? ” I asked. 

“Oh 1 he is one of the magnificent sort, after all. You 
know she married Jack for love ; and she never had an 
hour’s comfort with him. It’s nice to be rich, and not live 
in such a scrambly fashion as we do. I hope she’ll give 
me most of her traps. I fell heir to some when she went 
in mourning, — lucky for me, — or I might have played 
-^nid in a ragged gown. 


256 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


We were marched off home with the promise of an 
early tea. Mollie had not yet arrived ; but it was Johnny’s 
night, and she would be home early. The piano was in- 
vitingly open ; the easy-chairs were in groups, just as the 
last party had used them ; and there was a cool white 
pillow on the tete-a-tete. 

“ Now, Mr. Archie, you lie down,” insisted Jo, “ while 
the girls go wash a little dust off of their faces.” 

She took him a bottle of Florida-water and a handful 
of clean towels ; so that he mightn’t have the trouble 
of coming up stairs. 

A savory smell ascended from the region below. It 
was not one of the “ crumb ” days, evidently, that Mollie 
sometimes talked about. 

Jo fumed a while after the bell rang. What did keep 
Mollie? But, just as we were forming a procession, there 
was a clatter at the hall-door, and the truant made her 
appearance. 

“ Come straight down, Mollie.” 

We took our places. There was a delicious broiled 
chicken, and a dish of creamed potatoes, beside some 
potato-salad ; tomatoes sliced to perfection ; and a plate 
of tempting tarts on the side-table, fluffy enough to melt 
in one’s mouth. 

The chicken was divided, and passed around. 

“ Where is the bread? ” asked Mollie, looking sharply, 
in her queer, near-sighted way. 

“There isn’t any,” answered Adrienne, with the air 
of a queen. 

“ Send Hebe out, then.” 

“ Have you any change? ” 

“ No, I haven’t. I spent my last sixpence for car-fare, 
and am dead broke.” 

“ And I,” said Jo sententiously, “ bought the ribbon I 
wanted at Parker’s. They’re awfully dear ; and it took 
all but enough for a plate of cream. Oh, there is Per- 
cy!'* 


FEOM HAKD TO MOUTH. 


257 


Percy was applied to. Hebe was despatched for a loaf 
of bread and a pound of butter, as Adrienne confessed to 
using up the last on the broiled chicken. 

“I’ll ask Bailey for some money to-morrow to pay up 
Cross & Gordon’s bill,” said MoUie. “ It may do to be 
without money ; but you carCt live without credit.” 

Meanwhile Mrs. Henderson sat discussing the battle 
of Waterloo with Archie, in the most serene manner. 
There were so many contradictory accounts of it ! She 
wanted her history to be as nearly perfect as possible. 
How any one could sit down and rattle off a history as if 
it were a newspaper-leader or a magazine-story, that was 
read to-day and forgotten to-morrow, she could not see. 
Hers had been the work of her lifetime ; and she had read 
every thing on the subject that she could find, and dis- 
cussed knotty points with people who had given the mat- 
ter profound attention ; and so on. But I was more 
interested in the bread than in Napoleon. 

“Did you tell Chris about Portia?” inquired Mollie. 
“ I have a letter from her ; and they are actually engaged. 
Oh ! there will be weeping and wailing among the hon 
ton^ and mothers mad enough to scratch out Portia’s 
eyes. It is so funny ! And Portia will just go on in her 
regally-quiet way. They can’t put her down, or extin- 
guish her : that’s quite impossible.” 

“ Why should any one seek to put her down?” said 
Mrs. Henderson loftily, leaving hc-i beloved Napoleon in 
the hands of the English for a moment. “ Is there any 
better blood in New York than that of the Fairfax? Mol- 
lie, that is a very inconsequent remark.” 

We came to the tarts. Hebe had been privately in- 
structed to purchase some blackberries and cream-cake ; 
and the dessert was delightful, spiced with bits of wit and 
exhilarating laughter. 

“It was just too funny for any thing,” commented 
Theo afterward. “ Girls, what do you suppose aunt 


258 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Hetty would say to such wild extravagance ? The idea 
of buying ribbons and creams, when you are hardly' sure 
of 3^our supper ! ’’ 

“ They set all the old frugal virtues at defiance, and yet 
prosper. I dare say the girls will marry well. But 
Molhe is a trump. I feel sometimes like cutting out 
‘Johnny,* and taking her myself. I never saw a girl in 
whom absolute plainness was so attractive, and general 
carelessness so captivating. They are all so amusingly 
imbued with the philosophy of improvidence ! They seem 
to have no separate purse, but share any thing, to the last 
penny, and are never embarrassed over incidents that 
would be awfully mortifying to most people. Well, it is 
very enjoyable to others.’* And Archie leaned back 
against the car-cushions, laughing quietly. 

We do not imagine that is to be Archie’s last excur- 
sion. August comes in hot and sultry. He is troubled 
about breathing, and cannot sleep at night. Often Theo 
and I rise to keep him company ; she fanning, I reading. 
And through those starry nights we talk of other and 
solemn subjects, for the world seems to fall away, and 
heaven let down a little, — how it will be in that wondrous 
land, what we shall do (for now the idea of roaming 
about with a golden harp in one’s hand seems puerile) , 
how he will wait, and remember, and be there to welcome 
us, as we come one by one. “ I think mother will look 
for little Joe first,” he says with loving-tenderness for 
mother’s firstborn, whom he has never seen. 

We read “ Pilgrim’s Progress ” a good deal, a bit here 
and there, and “ In Memoriam.” No poem ever seemed 
so sweet and comforting. 

“ When I am gone, I do not want you to have that awful 
sense of separation,” he says. “ You know I was away 
almost four years, and you thought then of my coming 
home : now you must think of coming to me, — the other 
home. You must talk of me, of the pleasant times we 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


259 


ha^e had ; you must say, Archie did this or that, and 
was with us at such a time. You can make it seem quite 
as if I had gone on a little journey. 

“ It would be so pleasant to live,” he says again 
cheerfully. “ I don’t suppose any well-regulated, health}^ 
mind desires to go away to unknown worlds, when every 
thing seems fair and promising. I used to think of it 
when we went in battle, and hope, — yes, I actually did 
hope, cowardly as it seems, that I would not be killed. 
Not that I ever shirked a duty, thank God ! But I used 
to wish it could be in a hospital, rather than the trenches, 
or the field, so that some soft-handed woman might ease 
me with the gentle touches they have. And see, Theo, 
God answered that prayer, and more : he has given me 
two long, lovely summers with you all.” 

Then he rallies, goes out to walk and to ride. Twice I 
hire a great family- carriage, so that we can all go. Mol- 
lie Henderson runs over, and stays all night, bringing him 
a dainty basket of peaches and grapes, — real luscious 
Hamburgs, — and a nosegay, as she calls it, of spice- 
pinks, tea-roses, and heliotrope. Would we hke to have 
Jo or Ad come over and stay? They can do any thing. 

“We are so well supplied with girls,” mother says 
smilingly. 

“ Do you never mean to have any life of your own, 
Mollie?” asks Archie. “Must you go on until every 
girl is married, and every bit of the work done? ” 

“ Why, no ! ” opening wide her nondescript eyes. “ I 
am only waiting until — well, you know I want matters 
nice and fair with Johnny before he takes any new 
cares upon him. He is doing so well too. He would 
not have believed he had any genius but for me ; and 
some day he will make a great newspaper man. That’s 
the height of my ambition for him ; ” and she laughs. 

“ And when you have trained him, and helped him up all 
the difficult steps, some girl will swoop down, and carry 
him off.” 


260 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ No, she won’t! ” Mollie leans back, and shows hei 
white, even teeth from “ear to ear,” as people say, in 
that infectious laugh. “We’re not sentimental lovers; 
but it is treu und fest^ forever and always, with us.” 

“So I wouldn’t stand any chance, even if I had a 
hundred years ahead of me.” 

“ O Archie Durant I ” And a strange, wavering blush 
makes Mollie radiant. “Girls, how I would like to be 
sister-in-law to you ! But when you came to take a good 
look at me — I’m not a bit pretty, you know, — and, as 
for Johnny, he thinks every freckle in my face beautiful. 
We BXQ just suited, and we know it.” 

Archie brightens so much, that I ask the doctor if he 
thinks Florida would be quite useless. 

“ My dear girl,” he sa3’s kindly, “ home and love will 
keep him alive longer than a thousand Floridas.” 

“ He surely is improving,” I say to Theo. “ He does 
not cough as much ; and he sleeps better at night.” 

“Yes, poor darling ! ” 

I go back to school, though I can hardly tear myself 
away from the household. Dell still has a holiday. 

I shall alwa^'s remember that kingly September Sunday. 
There is a smell of daydilies, mignonette, and ripening 
grapes, in the air. The sweet church-bells clang out ; foot- 
steps go to and fro ; but we all stay at home, even to 
Ritchie. Theo plays now and then ; and we sing. Father 
reads aloud a bit here and there in his book. The meals 
are prepared, — all the glowing, delicious fruits we have 
been able to find. 

“ This supper-table ought to be painted: it is like a 
picture,” says Archie. 

“Why, Dell, child ! ” and mother gives a little surprised 
laugh, — “ what made you think of getting out this old 
china? ” 

It was great-grandmother Durant’s, rare and fine. 

“Because we had so many beautiful things to eat,’' 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


261 


answers Dell. “ And I have made each of you a nose» 

gay." 

Archie pins his in his dressing-gown. 

Then we go back to the parlor, and sing, — 

“ Forever with the Lord. 

Here in this body pent, 

Absent from heaven, I roam, 

Tet nightly pitch my moving tent 
A day’s march nearer home.” 

Archie has been leaning his head on mother’s shoulder. 
He raises it a trifle, kisses the hand so near his cheek. A 
little quiver seems to run all over him. 

“ Good-night, mother.” 

The head droops. Mother clasps it close, shutting out 
the face with her arm. We all know that he has gone 
through the “ pass of death,” and is at home. 

Captain Archie Durant, in the very flower of manhood. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


* Is it so brave a loss ? ” —Tempest. 

It was as Archie desired. We did not shroud ourselves 
in the outward panoply of grief, wearing black to some 
extent, but not stiff crape, and mourning neck-ruches. 
We took him to the pretty country burying-ground at 
Medford, and then went on with our daily duties. People 
have to, in this world, if they cannot get others to take 
their places ; and we could not. All our little savings 
went to pay expenses ; but we were out of debt. 

Mrs. Palmer gave up her business, as she was to marry 
at the holidays. Dell staid at home. We had some kind 
and pleasant friends, if we were not very prosperous. 

Yet it did seem to me as if the world was getting rich. 
The Sandborns sold, and went up on Park Avenue, the 
ridge of high ground above us. Mr. Mercer traded prop- 
erty, and left the neighborhood. New streets were cut 
through, rows of houses built and sold. Factories were 
running night as well as day. The croakers had croaked ; 
but good times were really coming in. High taxes and 
high prices made no difference when you had plenty of 
money. 

The Miller brothers sold their property, and were rich 
men at a bound. James Miller went Into building-business ; 
and the two opened a lumber-yard. Stephen was elected 
alderman, to fill a vacancy. 

Just at this time, uncle Frank took a dreadful cold. 
Mother was down spending the da}' with aunt Hetty. 

262 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


263 


‘‘ Hetty/* she said, “ why do you not make Frank stay 
in, and be doctored? He looks so badly ; and that cough 
is terrible.’* 

“ How can he? ** answered Hetty sharply. “ Stephen 
must be away, there’s so much in his new place that needs 
oversight ; for the Millers are no hands to go off pleasur- 
ing, and leave every thing to clerks. And the Kinneys 
might a’ been doing a good trade here to-day, if they’d 
looked after it.” 

“ But health seems of so much importance,” suggested 
mother mildly. 

“ Do you suppose he’d leave those Irishmen to ’tend to 
things, and take money? He’s had many a bad cold, and 
got over it. I never did beheve in cuddling people up in 
a chimney-corner. You can work a’most any thing off, if 
you have a little spunk.” 

Uncle Frank’s cold did not seem to “ work off ; ” but he 
managed to get about. 

“ I wish Stephen would give me Ms chance in the busi- 
ness,” said father; “let me buy him out, on any kind 
of easy terms. They certainly ought to have a book- 
keeper.” 

Father sounded uncle Frank, but found that Stephen 
wasn’t afraid of “ having too many irons in the fire.” 

“ I have a chance to take up a new employment,” he 
announced one evening. “We had a man to work for us 
once, — Woodford, a chair-maker by trade. He went to 
war when bounties were high, and on his return took up 
carpentering. He is in business now, with David Brown, 
a kind of half-made architect. It doesn’t seem neces- 
sary to learn any thing thoroughly nowadays. They build 
cheap, showy houses, and sell them ; although they have 
done some pretty good work. I saw Woodford to-day, 
and he said they were paying from two dollars and a half to 
three and a half for men. He offered me work ; indeed, 
quite urged me to come. I certainly think I can do as 


264 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


well at house-building as Mark Woodford. Nine dollars 
a week isn’t much for a man to earn, though Hatfield can 
get plenty of young men to take the place at that price.” 

“ It is very httle ; yet it has served you a good turn, 
and aided in re-establishing your health. But if you 
could earn more ” — 

There would be no Archie to count on in the future. I 
must be son and daughter both. 

Father looked after the opportunity, and found he could 
earn three dollars a day, after giving a little time to get 
an insight into the business. He had been so used to 
wood- work all his life. 

“Eighteen dollars a week,” said mother. “Do you 
remember, before 3"ou left New York, you had twenty dol- 
lars a week as foreman? We thought two hundred and 
fifty dollars a year a high rent ; and now Mr. Mercer’s 
house, not as pretty as ours, rents for five hundred. The 
Blairs are to pay twenty-eight dollars a month for a second 
floor ; and Mrs. Nichol was telling me, a few days ago, 
that they paid thirty dollars a month for the same cottage 
that cost them only twelve dollars five j^ears ago. Rents 
have more than doubled. We used to give from fifteen to 
twenty-five cents for first-class butter : now it goes from 
thirty-five to fifty cents. Excellent flour at seven dollars 
a barrel, and my last was twelve dollars and a half. A 
great man}^ small articles have doubled in price ; and, if you 
attempt to get cheap things, they are so very poor. When 
you have to use twice as much of any thing to gain the 
same strength or flavor, it is not cheap : so I, for one, think 
it a rather odd sort of prosperity.” 

“ Yet a good many people are getting rich,” said father. 
“ Now, here is Woodford. His family were almost starv- 
ing when he went to war : now they five in better style 
than we do.” 

‘ ‘ But he cannot have made all that money in such a 
little while,” said mother, sm’prised. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


265 


“ I don’t quite understand. It seems to me people are 
running fearfully in debt, thinking or hoping to make 
money. But how will it be when every thing shrinks back 
to its actual value? How pay indebtedness contracted 
with gold more than double its real value, with gold when 
it comes back to its normal state? Will property that is 
worth ten thousand now be worth ten thousand then? 
And yet it is a great temptation to speculate. I suppose 
if I had money, I should do it too.” 

Father had an offer for our house, — fifty-six hundred 
dollars, cash down. He hunted up all the papers to see 
what it had cost. Twenty-four hundred in the beginning : 
the improvements — furnace, bath-room, the double bay- 
window, and kitchen, besides being twice painted — had 
cost nearly another thousand, to say nothing of the work 
father had done by odd speUs. And then there was the 
interest and taxes. 

“We could go a little farther out,” said father. “ There 
are pretty houses at Mekose and Clinton and Westlands ; 
but the car-fare is eight and ten cents, and the street- 
improvements are all to be made. If Chrissie and I rode 
twice a day, and the others came in occasionally, car-fare 
would average ten dollars a month. Then here the grad- 
ing, curbing, paving, and sewering are done. It might 
cost a thousand or so in a new place. I do not see how 
we should be very much the gainers, after all, since we 
must have a house to live in.” 

Mother settled it. No house, she said, could ever 
be so dear to her. In case of great misfortune or posi- 
tive want, she would be willing to give it up, but for no 
other cause. 

So said Theo and I. 

“You have made a great mistake, Durant,” commented 
some of the neighbors. 

Were sentiment, affection, and satisfaction nothing? 
Was the world to be completely given over to greed? 


266 


FROM RAIS'D TO MOUTH. 


Our next-door neighbor, Mr. Corbin, who was a life- 
insurance agent, used to come and visit father on the 
porch, as the evenings grew pleasant. I was very much 
interested in their talk. Mr. Corbin thought a national 
debt a supreme blessing, and argued that high taxation 
served to develop the resources of a country. “ Look at 
England,” he would cry, ‘‘mistress of the seas, and 
with the greatest commerce in the world. Every few 
years she has a war on hand. Her debt is immense. An 
Englishman’s tax begins in his cradle, and can hardly be 
said to end in his grave ; yet see how prosperous the 
country is! We ought to copy that style of doing busi- 
ness.” 

He was also very enthusiastic about the towns in the 
vicinity of New York. 

“ The people are swarming out every year. As a 
place increases in population, its value certainly does not 
diminish. Why, I suppose this place was once a farm, 
and fifty acres could be bought for less than you would 
take for your house. It’s going to double again and 
again.” 

Mr. Sargent used to come up sometimes, and join the 
smokers’ club, as he called it, 

“ Mr. Corbin,” he would say, “ are salaries and wages 
going to increase in like ratio? Just now there seems a 
plethora of employment ; but such seasons are often fol- 
lowed by depression. There have been other times of 
excitement, followed by financial ruin ; and it behooves us 
to go a little carefully.” 

“Well,” laughingly, “I find that I can pay my five 
hundred a year rent easier on an income of three thousand 
dollars than I could two hundred on that of eight or nine 
hundred. And there’s a little margin of speculation on 
stocks and bonds. Brains are beginning to rule the 
world, instead of mere stupid strength.” 

“ An' yet brains have run into many foolish vagaries.” 


FROM HAl^D TO MOUTH. 


267 


Father sighed a little. 

“It seems tome,” Mr. Sargent said after Mr. Corbin 
had gone, “that there is too much of this irresponsible 
work in the world, — agents and officers and middlemen, 
— and profits must be enormous to pay them all. The 
old steady six per cent must give way to the new pushing 
dividend of fifteen or twenty. Farms are cut up into 
cities ; business-men must have a clerk or two, while they 
ride around in carriages. A queer state of things, after 
such an exhausting war ! ” 

As for us, we found need for the strictest economy. 
We had begun to hope again that the mortgage might be 
paid, if father had good work and kept weU, and no other 
misfortunes happened. 

We had lived very quietly since Archie’s death. Dell’s 
attention was occupied with her absent lover. Theo cared 
so little for company, indeed had not the strength for our 
old diversions ; and it seemed to me I was rather tired, 
and out of spirits. The years stretched ahead so long 
and uneventful. If you could keep the same class, and 
go on with them, watch their progress and development, 
their hopes and aspirations ; but as soon as you had 
taken them to a certain point, you turned back to another 
stupid, ignorant class, and went over the same things. 
Multiplication-tables and etymology may be very delight- 
ful for a season ; but it is possible for them to grow monot- 
onous after several years’ steady wear. 

Mother did not want DeU to go back to a store ; and, 
as she could keep some of Mrs. Palmer’s customers, she 
resolved to sew at home. She was a really exquisite 
machine-operator: tucks and puffs and ruffles from her 
fingers looked like fairy- work. The news from Roger 
was very encouraging. He was in a “ streak of luck,” as 
he expressed it. Every dollar that he made had a sacred- 
ness in his eyes, because it would be shared by his darling. 

I kept up with the Hendersons. Mrs. Rutherford was 


268 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


married in October to her Mr. Germain. He was about 
forty, and still a fine-looking, well-kept man, although he 
had been very gay. We were invited to the reception at 
“ The Fifth Avenue,’' but did not go. The bride was re- 
splendent in white armure and point lace ; and I knew she 
looked lovely. They were not to keep house, as Mr. Ger- 
main was immersed in business that called him from city 
to city, and Mrs. Germain was fond of variety. Toodles, 
oiherwise Miss Lenore, was relegated to the care of a 
French bonne^ a neat, trustworthy person ; and the two 
were sent home now and then to board. Then Miss Per- 
cy caught a lover ; and this time was caught in turn, — a 
young doctor, well connected ; and in the spring the}^ were 
married. Jo bewailed the loneliness of the house in com- 
ically pathetic terms, and threatened marriage as a forlorn 
hope. MoUie’s book was brought out, and was a decided 
success, bright, witty, satirical, yet overfiowing with the 
most genial good-nature. “ Ephemeral,” the severer crit- 
ics said, and lamented that she had not done work for 
immortality. 

“ I don’t know,” said MoUie with a gay laugh ; “ but it 
seems to me I would rather have people admire and like 
me while I am alive to enjoy it, than to place me on a 
shelf as a ‘ standard ’ when I am in my grave, and turn 
from me yawningly to the last new novel. A rose soon 
dies ; but it gives a great deal of pleasure : while a bun- 
goes on forever hanging to the bottom of some one’s 
gown.” 

“ Ma ” was coming to the last chapters of her book ; 
“though what she will do when it is finished, I cannot 
imagine, unless her children are all settled, and she takes to 
visiting them. Now, pa can adapt himself to any circum- 
stances ; and, the less he has to do, the more he enjoys it.” 

We thought this very true. But he was such a genial, 
“ bless-you-my-children,” kind of man, that you could not 
help liking him. 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


269 


Father felt a / od deal worried all the spring about uncle 
Frank. They seemed to keep nearer together than the 
other brothers. Uncle Robert, indeed, was so engrossed 
with money-making , that he thought of nothing else . They 
had gone into another still more elegant house ; and aunt 
Clara was a complete woman of fashion. 

The hard cough did not leave uncle Frank. He had a 
trifle of fever every afternoon, and complained of a dis- 
tressing pain in his side. 

“ He ought to go away,” said father. “ Why don’t you 
both spend the summer in Medford ? You have never had 
a real holiday in your lives.” 

Spend the summer ! How could he ? Stephen and 
James were building new houses ; and Martha was going 
to move in the fall, — and she had her hands full, with a 
new baby, and no girl ; and she (aunt Hetty) certainly 
couldn’t be spared. Frank would get better when settled 
warm weather came. He always was better in the sum- 
mer. 

“ How little comfort those two people have taken ! ” ex- 
claimed father at the supper-table. “ Only the two, and 
yet they have fairly slaved. Bessie, with all our children, 
our troubles, sorrows, and losses, we have been much hap- 
pier.” 

It was true. 

Just as vacation began with me, uncle Frank was taken 
to his bed. Aunt Hetty came flying up. Couldn’t one 
of us girls come down and stay a spell? for she didn’t 
know what in the world to do. 

“ Why does not Martha hire a servant? ” said mother. 
‘ ‘ She is able to afford it ; and you could have your time 
to devote to your hhsband.” 

“Oh, you are always so afraid of yom girls! ” flung 
out aunt Hetty. “The ground never has been good 
enough for them to walk on.” 

“ Hetty,” returned mother with grave decision, “ the 


270 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


girls may go as often as they like to visit uncle Frank ; but 
Chris has taught steadily for more than ten months ; Dell 
has been very busy sewing ; and Theo is never strong. I 
am not willing to have any of them come down to do your 
housework while you wait upon Martha. It does seem 
to me that your first duty is to your husband.” 

Aunt Hetty was very angry. There needn’t one of us 
enter her door, if we didn’t hke. 

“What a spunky httle woman!” commented father 
laughingly. 

“ I am not selfish ; but I do not feel wilhng that Chris 
shall spend her time working hard down there, when she 
needs a rest. For that matter, aunt Hetty could afford to 
have a servant.” 

I went down to spend one day. Aunt Hetty was in a 
continual fret. She didn’t see why uncle Frank had to 
take to his bed just now, when the building was going on ; 
and they had to put a strange man in the office (nobody 
knew whether he was honest, or not, and if he had done 
this or that, or left undone something) ; and Martha’s 
baby so cross ; and running up and down stairs ; and she 
was sure there wasn’t a woman in the world who had to 
work harder than she. 

I made uncle Frank some gruel that was not scorched 
and doubly salted, some toast that was not burned, and 
broiled him a bit of steak. 

“ How good it all is I ” he said in a trembling, feverish 
voice. 

Couldn’t aunt Hetty see the danger? But people had 
been sick before. 

Two weeks later she was roused from her careless, self- 
ish indifference. What with the fever and cough and 
weakness, he could not even sit up to have his bed made. 

Then there were loud lamentations. She was ready 
to do any thing, to go to the antipodes ; but it was too late. 

Theo and I were there a good deal during the last week. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


271 


As regarded nursing, aunt Hetty was worse than useless. 
She clattered and banged and dropped, and — “ didn’t see 
why ” continually. “ I’m sure Joe seemed sicker in his 
fevers, and he always recovered,” as if it were a burning 
injury that he should have done so. 

The end came ; and there was a new grave in the shady 
old churchyard. What a toiling, moiling life it had been ! 
Was he glad to rest, I wondered. 

“ I am so thankful aunt Hetty was not our mother ! ” 
said Theo. 

“ One of the smartest girls in Medford,” — what had 
it amounted to ? Would clinging baby-fingers have soft- 
ened her nature any, brought to it the true wisdom, the 
nurture of soul as well as body ? 

• She could go with Martha to the new house now. There 
was no more occasion to worry about the time when uncle 
Frank would be old, and not have enough to keep him. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Though the chameleon feeds on air, I am one who is nourished by 
^’ictuals.” — Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

We had one very delightful episode during my vacation. 
Mr. Germain had taken a cottage at Long Branch, indeed 
bought considerable property there. It was to be made 
one of the most attractive watering-places in the country. 
Mrs. Germain invited us three girls down for a fortnight. 
MoUie, Jo, and Adrienne were to be there. MoUie came 
over with the invitation, which was an actual written letter, 
and most cordial. 

“ You needn't buy any thing new," explained MoUie in 
her vehement way. “ Portia has stacks of clothes. You 
can’t think how handy it comes in for Jo and Ad, when 
she sends a great trunk full ; and those two young women 
are very fond of fine apparel. I think we are getting to 
be quite sweUs, coming into prosperity so rapidly, that it 
may turn our heads, which were never over well balanced. 
Where did I start from? Oh! about the clothes. There 
are aU kinds of skirts and wraps and jackets, and Heaven 
only knows what all ; and Portia’s just as good-natured as 
the day is long, — a summer day, I mean,’’ laughingly. 

We had a best black silk, a simple grenadine, and some 
white gowns : so we literally obeyed MoUie ’s behest. 
Prosperity certainly had not spoiled Mrs. Portia. If she 
was not a second Daniel, she was a wonderfully pretty and 
attractive woman, and drew a circle about her wherever 
she appeared, — one of the women who make the world 
272 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


273 


the happier for their being rich. Her past experience 
enabled her to see at a glance where a little would give 
so much pleasure ; then the Henderson girls were all gen- 
erous in temperament, with that hearty, honest, electric 
sympathy. 

Mrs. Germain looked us over after we were dressed. 
“Now,’’ she would saj^, “ there is such a thing,” what- 
ever the article might be, “go bring it here, Marie. — = 
Girls, isn’t that just the style for Mrs. Ross? — See how 
pretty it makes you! ” turning Theo round to the glass. 
“ I knew it was absurd for me when I bought it ; but you 
see, like the door-plate, it is so handy to have in the 
house. You must wear it ; I shall be real vexed if you 
don’t.” 

So we disported ourselves in lace and India shawls and 
various elegant garments. We were out driving, we had 
“evenings” and “dinners,” and attended one grand 
“hop.” Six girls were a goodly number to matronize; 
but she did it beautifully. 

One day Mr. Germain escorted Jo and Dell and myself 
to Philadelphia ; though I think he was the most taken 
with Theo. He hired a carriage, and had us driven around 
while he attended to some business, and then escorted us 
to a hotel for dinner. It was a delightful little tour. 

“ Oh I ” said Theo with a sigh, “no one can ever preach 
me out of the belief that it is just lovely to be rich. It 
has its cares, no doubt, and possibly some drawbacks ; but 
to think of that heavenly state of mind, when you can 
have peach-preserves and pine-apple at the same tea, and 
no troublesome conscience to tell you that you must save 
one for to-morrow night ; that ‘ wilful waste will make a 
woful want ; ’ that, if you ‘ shoe the horse and the mare,’ 
you must let the poor little dainty colt ‘ go bare ; ’ and 
all those wise old saws. Does any one realize, I won- 
der, how many platitudes are preached about poverty? 
The ‘ sleep of the laboring man,’ who is so tired, that he 


274 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


lies like a log, while his poor wife wrestles all night with a 
fretful baby and mosquitoes and a back-ache, and planning 
how she can i:xinch out and eke out, and stretch the poor 
pittance until Saturday night. I’d rather be Mrs. Portia. 
And then it is so delightful to make other people happy 1 
people like us, I mean,” and Theo smiles bewitchingly 
in the midst of her sermon, — “ who can appreciate and 
enjoy, but who can never have any thing much on their 
own money. To be sure, there is content. But the most 
contented thing I ever saw was a toad catching flies. He 
sat and waited with roj^al indifference, and didn’t seem to 
care whether they came or not. Honestly I don’t believe 
he was of much importance, after all. If everybody had 
been content, like the sublime red Indian in his wigwam, 
I am afraid the world would not have made much ad- 
vancement.” 

“ Bravo ! ” exclaims Mollie, coming in at the last, and 
clapping her hands. 

The Germains are to spend the winter at Washington ; 
and Jo is invited to “ come and be married off,” Mollie 
says. “And really I think it maybe Johnny’s and my 
turn next ; but it does seem a shame to break up the home 
and such grand good times ! I don’t believe thei'e ever 
was such a jolly set ; and, oh ! what pinches we have been 
in ! Had only one or two decent pairs of boots between 
us, and a party dress that everybody but Portia took a 
turn at the same winter, — I believe it was hers first, 
handed down, come to think. And before I had a regular 
situation, — when Jack Rutherford was cutting up all sorts 
of ways, and poor Portia taking care of Toodles, who was 
the crossest of babies, — we used sometimes to sit in sol- 
emn state, like the three black crows, and ask ourselves 
the same sublime question, — 

“ What shall we do for food to ate? ” 

She shakes her head now with grotesque seriousness. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


275 


I dare say it has been so. I am tempted to envy that 
hght-hearted jollity. How much care and thought and 
pains we have taken in our lives ! 

However, I am rewarded for my patient, plodding in- 
dustry, by promotion at school, and — what I begin to value 
much more highly now, — a rise of one hundred dollars. I 
am vice-principal, and have now been teaching seven years. 
I begin to feel as old as the “ everlasting hills.” So many 
of my young friends are married ! The little girls are 
grown up ; and some midget announces, with a triumphant 
elevation of the chin in the air, that her aunt Mary went 
to school with Miss Durant. I console myself with the 
reminder that it is a stylish name. 

We are going now to address ourselves seriously to this 
mortgage-business. It has been renewed for two years. 
The interest seems to eat up so much. Taxes have swelled 
tremendously. Instead of the paltry fourteen dollars at 
first, it is now fifty-four. There is a life-insurance of 
thirty-eight. The interest makes two hundred and thirty- 
two dollars to pay every j^ear : luckily the house was in- 
sured in such a manner that the cost now is trifling. If 
father worked every week in the year, which he cannot, 
— for there are days, and parts of days, when stuff gives 
out, or something doesn’t come to hand, or masons are in 
the way, or it rains, when all the work is outside, — he 
would earn a little over nine hundred dollars. There are 
six of us : and ten dollars a week is our limit for table-ex- 
penses. To keep in health, one cannot live on mush and 
molasses, or Dio Lewis’s famed beans. Fuel (and coal is 
high) costs us from fifty to sixty dollars. A pleasantly- 
warm house mother considers an aid to health and cheer- 
fulness. Gas-bills are much higher, of course. The twelve 
dollars has swelled to twenty-eight. We are very careful, 
and even discuss kerosene ; but there is the smell, which 
we abhor, the breakage of chimne3’s, and the time con- 
sumed in cleaning, trimming, and polishing glass ; “ for I 


2T6 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


never could abide such dull, smoked chimneys as some 
people use,’’ declares Theo emphatically. All this counts 
up past eight hundred dollars. Then with lost time, doc- 
tor’s bills, and clothes, there cannot be much to save. 

What can we give up? We have studied cookery-books, 
chemistry, and tried experiments. The most nutritious 
food on the smallest outlay of money is the question. 
Soups are nourishing, say the French and the. nurses. 
Father, Theo, and I care very little about them ; would lose 
appetite upon them indeed. Indian is like lead to Theo ; 
though we do now and then have a delicious corn-cake. 
Nice home-made wheat-bread, alternated with rye and 
graham, good butter, and beef, comprise the greater part 
of our diet, with sufficient vegetables for a variety. When 
the weather comes nice and cold, we buy a quarter of beef, 
using what we can while fresh, and putting the rest in 
brine. The difference in price pays. Then a whole mut- 
ton, part of which is pickled and spiced, and is delightful. 
So we try hard again. Theo says we shall come to hate 
the word “ economy ; ” and I think she is more than half 
right. 

Then some one talks about wages being so high. Work- 
ing-men ought to lay up money, ought now to get a home. 
Rents are enormous. A four or five thousand dollar house 
is offered on the tempting terms of only one thousand 
down. 

“ Such houses as some of them are ! ” saj^s father indig- 
nantly, — “ mere shells, with but one thin coat of plaster, 
the surbase and joints opening everywhere, the windows 
rattUng in the shghtest gust. The tenants must use double 
the coal to keep them warm in the winter. It is abomi- 
nable that any reputable city should be built up in that 
way ! ” 

“ But the middling classes come over from New York 
to buy. It looks so cheap to them,” cry the capitalists. 

A sorry cheapness they find it in after-years. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 277 

“So few things are done well!’’ says father. “Mr. 
Woodford is continually telling me I am too particular. 
‘ Cheap and rapid ’ is his cry. I suppose my carefulness 
does make me a slower workman.” 

Dell works cheerily at the machine, and buys her own 
clothes, with now and then a bit laid by for housekeeping. 
She is a sweet, happy girl. 

Theo is “miserable” for weeks, — palpitation, faint- 
ness, days when she can sit up but very little ; yet she lies 
on the sofa, and smiles cheerfully. Dr. Sheldon is so good 
to her : indeed, he has become quite a family friend. At 
the beginning of every year, Theo receives a little note 
from him, enclosing her bill receipted. At first she de- 
murred somewhat. 

‘ ‘ Hold your tongue ! ’ ’ said the doctor gruffly. ‘ ‘ I’m big 
enough and old enough, and have sense enough, to do as 
I like.” 

Father takes one severe feverish cold, and we are greatly 
alarmed. It passes over, however, with a fortnight’s rest. 
That is just thirty-six dollars out of our income. 

Mrs. Stephen Miller gets into her new house. 

It is on a stylish street “down town.” Mrs. James 
Miller’s is next door. Mrs. Martha keeps only one ser- 
vant, and manages to get a great deal of work out of 
her. The business is being settled. Uncle Frank made 
a will just after grandmother died, leaving every thing to 
his dear wife. Aunt Hetty says exultantly that she made 
him do it : she wasn’t going to have it all at loose ends. 
Martha has persuaded her to board with her, — a nice 
large room and closet, very cheap at four dollars a week, 
when everj'body else is charging from six to eight. Of 
course she will not mind looking after the children a httle, 
dusting, and doing odds and ends. 

Her part of the estate will be worth from ten to twelve 
thousand dollars. Stephen invests some in railroad stock 
that pays ten per cent semi-annually. Aunt Hetty sings 
his praises continually. 


278 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“Yet Frank would not have had the start but for me,” 
says father. “I fairly pushed him into it, and showed 
him where he could raise the money.” 

“It seems rather small in Martha,” says mother, “to 
charge aunt Hetty any board. Why, she works just like 
a second girl.” 

Mrs. James Miller is “ awfully swell,” to use the slang 
of the day. She keeps a carriage, and always figures on 
managing boards for orphan asylums, and homes, and 
fairs. James grows stouter, louder, redder in the face, 
but much richer withal. He sometimes contradicts his 
wife fiatly in company ; and it is whispered that she has 
a temper of her own. He still treats the king’s English 
disrespectfully ; but he has travelled, is jolly and blunder- 
ing and “ smart.” 

Do I ever repent as I see Mrs. James go by in her 
carriage ? 

We are very happy, we three girls. The years of 
maturity, and perhaps the sorrows, bring us nearer to- 
gether. We share each other’s very thoughts, and are 
foolish enough to take a deep interest in Dell’s love- 
afiairs. Not that Theo has ceased to be attractive. We 
have considerable company, and, when she is sufl3ciently 
well, we go out ; but it is not young, laughing, protesting 
lovers. I suppose Theo and I feel that our romances are 
over. 

Mollie Henderson and her dear Johnny are married this 
spring, in the very parlor where they have seen so many 
good times. It is at ten in the morning. Mollie looks 
— well, quite compactly put together; but the fiowers 
do fall out of her hair soon after she is Mrs. McKnight. 
There is a wedding-breakfast, when they do not have to 
send out for bread. Such a crush! Why, it seems as if 
half New York was anxious to do honor to this plain, 
freckled, attractive, and really lovable woman. 

At three they sail for Europe. They have all th« 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


279 


“correspondence” they will be able to do. Johnny has 
made his appearance in some noted magazine-articles, and 
is a “ rising young litterateur.” Molhe is actually going 
to write a novel. 

They go off with smiles, good wishes, much waving of 
hands, and some tears. Oh I when shall we see Molhe 
again? 

Josepha is engaged to a Washington banker. Mrs. 
Germain is stiU radiant. The house is to be hired out, 
“ma” and “pa” boarding with the tenant; and pert 
little Adrienne is to go and come as she lists, until she 
gets through coquetting. 

With all our earnest, honest endeavors, we have been 
able to save but three hundred dollars. Still that is 
something, and lowers our interest twenty-one dollars. 
The cost of living begins to decrease a trifle. Dry-goods 
are quite coming down ; taxes are higher ; and ever^^body 
seems wild about property. Fabulous prices are asked, 
and large tracts bought upon speculation. Some one 
wants to trade with father, — a great frame building, store 
and tenement. He offers it for ten thousand ; and it is 
rented for eleven hundred. 

Mother thinks it over. “ Five hundred would pay our 
rent,” she says ; “ and, as our family will grow smaller 
instead of larger, we do not need quite so much room. 
Then there would be six hundred,” and she looks up 
questioningly. 

The trader is willing to allow seven thousand for our 
house, taking the difference in cash. In two years we 
might be out of debt, and have a little income. It is 
really worth looking after. 

“ I would give up the house to have 3"Ou easy in j^our 
mind, and to feel that j^ou need not work quite so hard,” 
sa^'s mother in her sweet, caressing tone. 

Father, Theo, and I go to look at it one Saturday after- 
noon. It is in one of the poor neighborhoods. A Gep 


280 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


man keeps the untidy grocery-store ; and his family live 
at the back, a wife and four children in two rooms. They 
pay five hundred dollars. Up stairs there are four families 
on the two floors ; and the six hundred is divided between 
them. There is a muddy little yard, with a leaky hydrant ; 
no water through the house ; all the drainage must be carried 
down by hand. The rooms are small, low-ceiled, smoky, 
dirty, out of repair: indeed, the house is a mere shell. 
We turn away in disgust. 

“I couldn’t keep tenants so much like pigs,” sa3"s 
father indignantly. “ I should want to spend a thousand 
on repairing and cleaning ; and a house like that costs 
every year, if 3"ou keep it in order. I don’t believe I am 
the kind of man to undertake such a thing. Although it 
rents high, it is not worth ten thousand. Let emplojment 
fall off, and half the tenements will be empty.” 

Mr. Day comes several times to talk it over, and finally 
offers father eight thousand for our house. “ I doubt if 
you are ever offered such a price again,” he says emphati- 
cally. “ A man who can’t take that don’t know a good 
bargain when he sees it.” 

“Will you give me eight thousand cash?” asks fa- 
ther. 

“ Why, no : it doesn’t begin to be worth that ! I can 
get one of those houses of Crane’s, around in Warren 
Street, for six thousand cash ; French roof, marble man- 
tels all through ; been built two years only.” 

“There seems to be some difference between a cash 
price and a trade. I shouldn’t want to give 3^ou more 
than six thousand for 3"ours, Mr. Day.” 

“ But look at the rent ! I shall raise it the first of Jan- 
uar3^ I can get two hundred more for that house.” 

“ I pity the poor who have to pa}^ it. But, if it is such 
a good investment, why do you wish to dispose of it, Mr. 
Day?” 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


281 


“Oh! I’ve had it some time; and changing about 
makes business brisk.” 

“It is like pouring pennies from one hand into the 
other : you make a great stir and clatter, but you have 
no more money. Every thing is so inflated, that few of 
us know just where we do stand.” 

“Oh, you are one of the croakers ! If everybody felt 
like you, Mr. Durant, there’d be no good times, no busi- 
ness-activity. You would keep on the steady jog-trot year 
after year.” 

“ I should endeavor to keep out of debt.” 

‘ ‘ I have not seen one trade yet where I could better 
m3' self,” declares father afterward ; “ and it seems to me 
this continual changing injures legitimate business. It is 
just like the pennies : 3’ou have a great rattle, but are no 
richer.” 

We thought, when vacation came, that we would go to 
some quiet countr3'-place and board. Dell seemed to be 
wearing, and growing thin. Roger had promised to return ; 
but there had been another wonderful opening. He might 
sta3" a 3"ear longer. Dell was disappointed. 

“ Is the whole world going mad for money? ” she ques- 
tioned. 

We made inquiries about board in attractive quarters ; 
from eight to twelve dollars. 

“We can’t give any such prices,” declared Theo. 
“ Twelve dollars for the three ought to be our utmost 
limit. We shall not eat much, and keep our own rooms 
clean. Do you remember how small the actual outlay 
was that summer on Long Island ? And in some farmers’ 
houses the3" would not feel our cost at all. Nice plain 
living is all we ask.” 

We hear of a place in Penns3dvania, “ among the 
Dutch,” with mountains at the back, and the Delaware 
River not half a mile away. Good Mrs. Wenecke will take 


282 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


US three for twelve dollars. We pack up and go. A stout, 
phlegmatic, motherly woman, with a broad, pleasant face, 
ushers us into a double-bedded room large enough for a 
barn, I was going to say. We eat, sleep, and ramble ; 
we instruct our landlady in the sublime art of cooking, 
and do some fine sewing for her. Oh ! how sweet and 
clean and healthful it all is ! We take back with us some 
fine, wholesome flesh, and bright red blood that flushes 
our cheeks. It is worth forty-eight dollars, when one has 
to work almost a year without stopping. 

‘‘Come again, come again!” Mrs. Wenecke says, 
bobbing her round head, with a bald spot on the top. 
Ay, that we will, if opportunity offers. 

We are all very much surprised, on our return, to hear 
that Miss Newby is to be married. Not but what she is 
sweet enough, for all her thirty odd years, — a gracious 
and noble woman. Her dead love will never be quite for- 
gotten. 

The new husband is a man of forty, fine looking, cul- 
tured, and wealthy. They are not to fly off to Europe, 
but to take a leisurely tour through the wonders of their 
own country. 

Then we hear that Miss Cummings — who was not 
young when I began to teach ; who is cross and sallow, 
and always wears an unhappy scowl — has bestowed her- 
self upon a comfortable widower. The girls in her class 
actually jump up and down when the joyful news reaches 
them. 

What a changing world it is ! Wisely did Dr. Johnson 
advise people to keep their friendships in repair. I begin 
to feel that I have not done so. The old friends have 
gone east, west, or are occupied with husbands and babies, 
and give you a pit3dng sigh as they talk about Bobby’s 
tooth, and Charlej^’s measles, and show j-ou Mamie's 
lovely new dress, and Susie’s cloak. I know those pretty 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


283 


young girls down the street think me “quite an old 
maid.’* 

Well, I had “ a day,” and laughed and danced. Why, 
I do beheve I could dance now with feet as light as then, 
even if my heart were not as gay. Would I be considered 
crazy? Oh, magical, sweet sixteen 1 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


“ How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another 
man’s eyes! ” — As you Like It. 

We were tolerably fortunate in every thing this year, 
and at March paid seven hundred dollars on our mort- 
gage, with the savings of the year before. Theo had 
earned fifty of it herself by doing fine flannel embroidery. 
Now there was but thirteen hundred left. Dick had grad- 
uated the year previous, and taken a fancy to learn jewelry 
engraving. Father did not think very well of it ; but Dick 
had such a liking for delicate work. He was offered four 
dollars a week the first year. 

“ Not so good as my apprenticeship,^’ said father. “ I 
had my board ; and I do not suppose Dick could get his 
board and washing anywhere for less than six dollars : so 
he could not learn a trade if he had to care whoUy for 
himself.” 

Roger had come to St. Louis, and fallen in with some 
friends, and another chance to “make something;” but 
he would be home by September, sure. 

In May father had a bad fall through a building. 
When they first picked him up, they thought him dead ; 
but he revived presently. One ankle was broken, and his 
back a good deal injured. For a month he lay in bed 
very patiently ; and then the doctor decided he was sound 
everywhere but the limb. That being such a very serious 
fracture, great care would be required, and, above all, 
time. 


284 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


285 


But we knew now that his “ best days were over/' as 
people say. He was going down the shady side of fifty ; 
and, if he could take hfe a httle easy hereafter, it might 
still be fair with him ; but here was poverty to confront 
us. 

If Dick's fancy had been for some business in which he 
and father might join afterward ; but there was nothing to 
hope from this, save high wages for himself, if times were 
good. 

Yet we had some pleasant events to interest us this 
summer. Miss Newby — Mrs. Hildreth as she was now — 
had returned. Her husband kept a business-connection 
in New York ; but he did not care to live there. Some 
miles above us, in direct communication with that city, 
was a pretty suburban town, quite substantial, if it had 
come up in a night. It was on high ground, and com- 
manded a magnificent view of the surrounding country. 
Here they purchased a handsome stone house, built like 
an old-fashioned castle. A few rooms were made habit- 
able : the rest she meant to furnish by degrees. The 
grounds were beautiful : the tract had been a pine and 
hemlock woods ; and some magnificent old trees were left 
standing. 

She came down to see us, and carried off Theo. Then 
it was mine, and afterward Dell’s turn. One of the 
friends that it is charming to have, who does not make 
you feel her magnificence oppressive, like aunt Clara. 
She gathered around her educated and cultured people. 
Mr. Hildreth had a great many nice acquaintances. It 
was a little like, and very unlike, the Hendersons ; but 
to us it made a welcome break in the routine of life. 

I heard from Mollie now and then. At present they 
were in Germany, and had the most absurd and ridiculous 
baby imaginable. Persephone, Mrs. Dr. Waring, was 
living quite stylishly with her mother-in-law in New York ; 
Jo had invited me most cordially to come to Washington ; 


286 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


and the Germains were living in the utmost magnificence 
in Baltimore. Ad was still flirting. 

Alfred Dayton came home this summer. He had held 
a charge two years ; but there had been ‘ ‘ a little dissatis- 
faction.’’ His sisters were still unmarried. Hither he 
came, with wife and baby, to wait for an opening. 

I do believe the honest fellow felt that he had been 
pushed and persuaded into the wrong place. He was 
thoroughly good ; but nature had evidently not designed 
him for a clergyman. He had so little tact, and blundered 
into the wrong channels. I felt reaUy sorry. His wife 
was still sweet and clinging and indolent. All her early 
years she had been made a pet and pla^dhing in a rich 
household, who had taken her to educate because she was 
a “missionary’s daughter.” She could play and sing, 
but she had no intellectual strength or judgment, cared 
nothing for reading or study, and had no ambition for her 
husband. She could not make the plainest garment for 
herself or her child : housework was her abhorrence. “ It 
spoiled your hands so! and a clerg3Tiian’s wife ought to 
have a nobler employment than mere drudgery.” She 
was fond of going to female meetings, or any, in fact, where 
she could talk ; and she had a pretty, saint-like way, that 
was quite fascinating to many people. 

He took up his old relations with us. DeU seemed to 
amuse him immensely. He could not realize that she was 
a grown young woman. He soon began to say Chrissie 
and Theo. As for young Mrs. Dayton, we did not like 
her very much, and tried not to drift into an intimacy. 

But here was father, ready for any chance visitor. He 
could get about a little on a crutch ; yet he spent a great 
deal of the time on the front-porch. Mr. Sargent, too, 
had taken to coming again. Somehow we did not get on 
famously with Mrs. Sargent. I began to think, after a 
little, there was too much sameness to her, too much out- 
eide. She never seemed real heart-warm, though she was 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH, 


\ 287 


not actually of a cold temperament. In formal society 
she was a great favorite. Theo and I laughed once to 
see her name on a committee with Mrs. James Miller. 
Yet I dare say she was as polite and cordial to Mrs. James 
as to me. 

Mr. Sargent had adopted a quiet, elder-brother air 
toward all of us. To mother he was a dear friend. Ah ! 
she never suspected how near he had come to being her 
son. It would have distressed her with a motherly fear 
to know it now, and I had too much real work and anxiety 
to indulge in sentimental dreams. It required all my 
strength to gird myself up for the present. If he had 
been a different man ; but he simply was not, and therein 
lay the safety of friendship. 

Theo did not fare so well, though, if any thing, she was 
braver and truer than I. If Alfred’s wife had been a 
woman of stronger, sterner mould ; but, although she 
demanded considerable of her husband’s attention, she 
did not fill his heart at all. 

He was asked about midsummer to supply a church 
whose minister was going abroad for three months. They 
could live at the parsonage ; and I think Mrs. Dayton was 
secretly glad to be rid of “ my son and his wife.” The 
sisters packed her trunks. They had been sewing for her 
all summer, and now minded the baby while she spent the 
last few days in making calls. 

Mr. Sargent had taken father out to drive one after- 
noon. I had been down town of some errands. Just as 
I neared the house, the gate slammed with a sharp click, 
and Alfred Dayton strode up the street. 

I opened the hall-door, and walked into the parlor. 
Theo lay on the sofa, but sprang up, flushing redlj^, her 
face full of tears. I knew what had happened. 

“ O Theo ! ” and I kissed the wet eyes. 

“ Chris, my darling, he has just gone. You must have 
ftftfen him. And you can guess*” 


288 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ That he quite forgot himself/’ I answered severely. 

“It is so bitterly hard ! Why are things all wrong in 
this world? Here is a good, kind, honest soul, to whom 
is given a bitterer thorn in the flesh than even St. Paul’s, 
I fancy. He could do God’s work bravely, with a clear 
conscience ; but Alfred is all at sea. His marriage was 
his mother’s planning. I do believe, Chris, when she 
heard of my misfortune, she felt afraid he might return to 
his boyhood’s fancy ; and she urged him to the step. It 
made no difference to him whom he married, he said in 
that pitiful, heart-broken way. He never could forget 
me. He never can even think of a time when he shall 
cease to want me ; ” and she shivered in my arms. “ So 
he has been calling for the last two months, because he 
could not keep away. Oh ! why are men so weak ? Before 
God, Chrissie, I do not think I have held out the slightest 
temptation. I rarely shook hands with him. I often 
went away, and left him alone with father, because I 
did not hke him to look at me in that eager, absorbed 
wa}^ ; ” and she flushes burningly at the remembrance of 
it. “He came in to say good-by. And oh! he wasn’t 
wicked : he even feels that it is best never to see me 
again ; but it is impossible for him to forget. He has 
prayed : will not God help him sometime ? And it must 
be so awful to feel that your whole life is wrong, that, tr}’ 
as 3"ou may, you cannot get into any harmonious accord. 
He has his education and ordination ; and he does, in a 
confused, blundering way, the work that is set before him, 
or that he flnds to do. I do believe he pra3"s and tries 
more than many another minister ; ^^et the real grace is 
forever wanting, though he seems to have a true and 
tender sense of religion itself. What can be done? ” 

“ You cannot advise, Theo.” 

“ Oh, no, no I I should be afraid. Yet I should say, 
if it was my right, ‘ Give up preaching. Teach, work, 
find the place where you may feel at home, without all this 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


289 


striving, and restless dissatisfaction. Try to love your 
wife.’ Oh! that is absurd; ” and the tears flood Theo’s 
eyes again. “I never could love Alfred: so it is quite 
possible that he may never be able to love her in the high 
and holy sense, though he will always be kind to her. 
But oh, I wish he had not told me! ” she moans dis- 
tressfully. 

“ It was weak, unmanly in him,” I cry sharply, think- 
ing of another, who would thrust his right hand into the 
flames rather than do such a thing. 

“ Chrissie, what is there about me, — what charm, that 
Mr. Ross should be willing to sin, that Alfred should not 
be able to forget? I know now that I did not love Mr. 
Ross, for all my trying. I never made any great pretence ; 
but God knows, when it became my duty, I did try. I 
kept it before me every hour. Perhaps it is from this 
very bitter experience that I know how to pity Alfred ; ” 
and all the tenderness of S3rmpathy lights up her eyes. 

That is put in another httle grave. 

We seldom speak of Mr. Ross now, though Theo still 
wears her wedding-ring and her ill-fated opal. Was it a 
token of destiny ? 

We do not go anywhere this vacation. Insurance, 
interest, and taxes have become household watchwords. 
Father looks drearily into the future. 

If Archie had only lived ! 

Richard is a bright, pleasant young lad, fond of us all ; 
3’^et in his estimation we are rather old-maidish. Theo 
and I, remembering the Misses Dayton and other elder 
sisters, do not try to restrain, or insist that he shall stay 
at home with us, and think our rather grave thoughts. 

“ He will never be so noble and tender and loving as 
Archie,” I say to mother. 

“ My dear, Archie was not so thoughtful in boyhood,” 
mother replies, with a peculiar softness in her voice; 
“ and that last year he gave us his whole soul.” 


290 


FROM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


What father is to do hereafter is a troubled question. 

“ There is no more real hard work for you,” says Dr. 
Sheldon authoritatively. “You cannot stand it. A posi- 
tion in a store, or some light manufacturing ; since it will 
not pay to be sick half one’s time.” 

Most true. Yet there are so many young men growing 
up, and crowding in all the business-ways. Seven, eight, 
or ten dollars a week is eagerly taken by them. There 
are abundant harvests; and all things seem singularly 
active : but every year the nice middle class appear to be 
dropping out of the ranks. Some gi’ow suddenly rich : 
others lose every thing by some disastrous failure. 

The Millers thrive wonderfully. They are ‘ ‘ in politics , ’ ’ 
that m3"sterious business whose wa^^s and profits are past 
finding out. James figures on committees and boards 
and commissions, while Stephen goes to the State legisla- 
ture. Martha is thriving and saving ; but she rides in her 
carriage now, and dresses verj^ handsomely. They attend 
the most aristocratic church, for the sake of respectability. 
Martha subscribes to the charities of the day ; but she 
gets nurses, seamstresses, and washerwomen at the cheap- 
est rate, often selling them old gowns or hats in return. 

Aunt Hetty is very lugubrious. To hear her talk now, 
you would think there never had been a woman who so 
idolized her husband. 

“ There never was so happy a time in my life,” she de- 
clares, “ as when 3"our uncle and I lived in two rooms, 
and I stitched shoes from morning to night. Many a time 
I never swept up my house until after supper, I was that 
busy. And now here’s all this money, that I don’t even 
spend the interest of, and I’m lonely and miserable. Of 
course, Stephen and Martha can’t be bothering about an 
old woman like me. Ah ! money can’t make 3"ou happy, 
as 3^011 ’ll find, if you ever get it.” 

“ I think a little would make me very happ3",” says 
Theo, with a funny twinkle in her e3"e. “Suppose you 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


291 


try, aunt Hetty. Give me the surplus interest that you 
do not spend.*' 

‘‘Chrissie might have been rich enough,’* she flings 
out. “If ever a girl deserves to be poor, it is Chris 
Durant. And Mrs. James pouring out her money like 
water ! Well, I don’t wonder 3’ou feel anxious, — Joseph’s 
health so poor, and three great girls at home.” 

“My girls pay their way!” returns mother, bridling 
up like a pretty maternal hen. 

But, although aunt Hetty thinks poor Joseph so “dread- 
ful unlucky,” her surplus interest goes on accumulating. 

Dell brightens up considerably at the thought of her 
lover’s return. She has not seemed well all summer, and 
has grown thin. Mother advises her to buy a handsome 
light silk with the money she has on hand, lest it get 
diverted to some other purpose. She is counting on this 
wedding in a half-bashful, girlish way, as if it were her 
own. Indeed, we have become divided this way, — Theo 
and I, mother and Dell. 

But September passes. Father finds a place in a house- 
furnishing establishment, wages twelve dollars a week ; but 
the work is not severe. The Alfred Daj^tons are back 
again : but it is too cool to sit on the porch ; and Theo is 
resolved that her weak hero shall not be tempted with a 
sight of her face. Mrs. Hildreth is very kind, and takes 
Dell home with her, because she looks poorly. 

Is Roger — 

It is a very delicate subject. He does not write so 
foolishly frequent as in the early da^^s. Dell’s heart is 
fixed upon him, alwaj’s has been, to the exclusion of 
ever}" one else. She never had any of Theo’s saucy, co- 
quettish ways. If this love of her life fails her, it will go 
very hard indeed. 

In November the manufactory where Dick is employed 
comes to grief. Speculation seems to be at the bottom ; 
but there is no help for them. Into bankruptcy they must 


292 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


go. He hunts around in an energetic fashion ; but every- 
one says, “ After the holidays.” Even now there is an 
ominous undercurrent ; but people still rush madly on. 
Business begins to slacken, and employers to contract ; 
and, although every thing seems going at full tilt, the 
more prudent people shake their heads. 

We have made our wants so few and simple, that we 
can live by taking careful heed to the morrow. The di- 
vine injunction seems almost like a satire. 

One evening an old friend of mine drops in. She 
graduated, and taught school two or three years ; then her 
father was fortunate in some real-estate business. She 
has been to California, and is full of the glories of Yo- 
Semite Valley. At St. Louis she had relatives, at Chicago 
friends. 

“Oh!” she exclaims in her emphatic way, “do you 
remember Roger Palmer? He’s been very fortunate in 
some silver-mining, and is getting rich. And he’s going 
to marry a great heiress, a Miss Waterfield. I saw them 
out riding : indeed, I saw him several times. Miss Water- 
field’s father is worth millions : there’s no end to his 
money. He is real splendid-looking. You know he was 
tall, but rather lanky : now he has filled out, and has a 
magnificent beard. He knows what he is about e\ddently. 
Why,” — and she suddenly gazes round the room, — 
“ wasn't he sweet on one of you girls the summer before 
Archie died ? But it is not wise to pin your faith to any 
young man who goes off to seek his fortune.” 

She points emphasized words with an inclination of the 
head which makes it rather ludicrous. She stag's and 
stays. I catch a glimpse of Dell’s white face, wearing a 
sickly smile, and am tempted to prove inhospitable. I do 
go to the hall-door with her joyfully. 

Dell just falls into mother’s arms. All the wearing 
doubt, the feverish alternations, have culminated. 

“ Oh I ’’she sighs with hysteric tremulousness, “he 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


293 


might have been kinder. It is so cruel to let me go on 
loving for years, and even then not have the courage to 
teU me. Yet I have known it all the faU. What else 
could keep him away ? O mamma, my heart is broken ! 
And we might have been so happy ! ’’ 

Mother kisses her, cries over her. What words can 
comfort just now, when the fair fabric of one’s life hes in 
ruins ? 

‘‘We Durant girls seem very unfortunate in love,” 
observes Theo, winking her eyes hard to keep back the 
tears. “ Chris, is it because you refused James Miller? ” 
A few days after, Dell writes the last letter to her lover. 
Her diamond ring, which she kept in a drawer to feast 
her eyes upon, is sealed in a little box, and returned to 
him. 

I do believe we are destined to be “ old maids.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

“An I had but one penny in the world, thou should have it to buy 
gingerbread.’* — Love’s Labor Lost. 

Oddly enough no one had asked us out to a Christmas 
dinner, and we had invited no one. Dick was awaj, 
spending the holidays with a friend. 

“Is it worth while to get a turkey for Christmas ? ” 
asked mother. We were sitting round the dining^table, — 
Theo and I sewing, Dell reading, and mother with her 
mending-basket, wherein garments that could be made 
over for poor people now found a place. “ There is still 
a large piece of beef to roast ” (we had just purchased 
our usual quarter) , “we have some nice mince-pies ; ’ ’ 
and she glanced questioningly around. 

“It would seem so queer for a Christmas-dinner ! 
remarked Theo. 

“We have just two dollars and a half, — all we can 
have until Saturday night, when father gets his money. 
Everybody is drained dry, I believe.” 

“ O girls ! doesn’t it make you think of Mollie Hen- 
derson? She used to talk of their taking up a collection 
over night for breakfast the next morning;” and Theo 
laughs with an infectious heartiness. There has been very 
little laughing of late. 

“Poverty has its ridiculous side as well. I suppose 
there are people,” and she swings her thimble around on 
the head of a shawl-pin, making a musical little tinkle, — 
“ who are just as poor as we. How would it do to spend 
294 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


295 


our last penny for a Christmas-dinner ? There are still 
three days in this week ! ” and she glanced around. 

“ I think we had better not/’ mother appended mildly. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” sighed Theo. 

“ Just as you like, though.” 

“ Think of the money aunt Clara has spent this week ! 
O girls ! what a pity we cannot even dress well enough 
to enjoy the palace any more. Now, if aunt Clara were 
to send us each a new silk dress, and aunt Hetty to give 
us fifty dollars apiece, and Mrs. Josepha to invite us to 
Washington, why, it would be a merry, merry Christmas ! 
Instead of that, we can’t have one poor little turkey.” 

Thursday was gray and cloudy. The school-children 
were wild about the holidays^ — a whole week, and a day 
over. Several of the teachers were going away. I 
stopped to talk to Miss Mordaunt, a thin little woman, 
whose hair was turning gray. On six hundred a year she 
supported her mother and two orphan-children of her 
dead sister. I wondered what they were going to have 
for a Christmas-dinner. Then I sauntered homeward. 
The air was full of fine sleet. 

The parlor-door stood open. It might be extravagant ; 
but we had our house warm all through, with cheerful 
open doors. There was a fragrant smell like summer 
time. 

“ O Theo ! where did you get such lovely fiowers? ” I 
cried in amazement. 

“ Bought them,” laconically. But her face is a study 
in its bewitching radiance. 

“ The money, Theo, the money ! Think not, girl, that 
you can deceive me ! ” I cried with a tragedy voice and 
air. 

“ O Chris ! ” and she dropped in the nearest chair to 
lausrh. “ I wanted to see how it felt to be a Henderson, 
and sublimely take no thought for the morrow. Mrs. 
Wheaton came in and paid me her ten dollars. Mr. 


296 


FEOM HAKD TO MOUTH. 


Wheaton has cleared ten thousand in some kind of stocks. 
You know I thought I should never get it : so it was just 
like a present. I put on my wraps and marched down 
town, and bought the handsomest turkey I could find 
(it was wickedly extravagant, I know) , then a box of 
Concord grapes, some almonds, and some hickory-nuts, 
and invested a small fortune in fiowers. I never was so 
demented in all my life. There you have this strange, 
moving history.” 

“ The fiowers are heavenly ! ” 

Our house-plants had not bloomed much thus far, but 
were promising. 

She had dressed the rooms with prince’s-pine and holly- 
leaves : now she was putting bouquets around on brack- 
ets and stands. Oh, it was just delightful with beauty 
and fragrance ! 

It stormed all night. In the morning, lo, the city was 
gem-incrusted ! a blaze of splendor as the sun came out. 
Every tree and shrub, every bit of fence, even the streets, 
were jewelled. 

We did not go to church : why I can hardly tell. The 
sweet bells rang out their “ Peace on earth.” Oh if the 
many toiling millions could come to peace, rest, ease of 
mind ! 

We exchanged trifiing gifts. Every year Dell had been 
handsomely remembered ; but now there was no letter, no 
package. Sometimes aunt Clara had thought of us, but 
not this year. 

Last evening, twenty-nine years ago, Archie had been 
God’s Christmas-gift to father and mother. 

We helped with the cooking. The cranberry-sauce was 
perfect. A savory smell began to pervade the house, and 
it was inspiriting. 

“ Theo,” mother calls from the kitchen, “you may 
arrange the table.” 

She brings out one of the best table-cloths and the 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


297 


china. Our dessert is arranged tastefully on the side- 
board. Two tall vases of flowers are brought out ; and 
we really look fit for the queen. 

“How funny!” says Dell as we take our places: 
“ you have made one too many.” 

“ The result of wealth and riotous living,” returns 
Theo drolly. “ Well, let it stand. Some one may come 
in.” 

Theo is in wonderful spirits to-day. Such a little thing 
makes her happy I 

I am dishing cranberries, and Dell is helping the vege- 
tables, when the door-bell rings. Theo, being the only 
unoccupied one, goes, and shuts the door between the 
parlor and sitting-room. 

“Who can it be?” mother sa3’'s wonderingly as Theo 
sta^^s ; and somehow we look at the guest-place, aU in 
order. 

The hall-door is shut. Theo comes along with a curi- 
ously measured step. 

“O bother!” she exclaims pettishly. “Dell, it is 
some one for you just as we want to begin our dinner. 
But I suppose people who come on business must be at- 
tended to.” 

“ Thank fortune it isnT any one I shall want to Mss. 
I have just tasted an onion ; ” and Dell rises. 

Theo looks her all over strangely. She has on a prettj^ 
Eob Roy plaid, and a daintily ruffled apron. The warmth 
has brought a tint of pink to her cheeks, maMng her look 
less thin. 

I catch the something in Theo’s face. Is it a bit of 
pleasure or comfort for sad little Dell? 

There is a cry. 

“ Father, mother,” says Theo, and now her own bright 
eyes are full of tears: “it is Roger Palmer! He is no 
more engaged to Miss Waterfield than — than I am. He 
was not in St. Louis when Dell’s letter reached there ; 


298 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


but, when he did get it, he started at once. It is all right 
between them. Oh, thank God ! ” 

She is crying now for pure joy. 

I think of the flowers, of the extra place. 

“ Did you know it before, Theo? ” 

“ Upon my honor, no ! But isn’t it queer? ” and now 
she laughs. Well, let the banquet proceed.” 

When it is almost concluded, the lovers walk out. Roger 
Palmer is a handsome man. That face is loyal, brave, and 
tender : it could never be false to any woman. But Dell’s 
full cup of joy has almost unnerved her. She wants no 
dinner. She plays idly with her grapes at dessert, and, 
when we rise, she runs off up stairs. 

“ Dell has been telhng me all about the trouble,” Roger 
says, putting his arm over mother’s shoulder. Oh, just 
so Archie might have stood I “I have been a good deal 
at fault. But time passes so rapidly when are in the 
whirl of business-excitements. I can hardly convince 
myself that so long a time has elapsed since I stood here 
among you. But that my darling’s heart should have 
been almost broken, that she should have heard such an 
absurd story ! Why, Miss Waterfield was to be married 
this very morning. She never could have been any thing 
to me. Oh I I want you all to believe, that, in life or 
death, I should have been true as steel ; ” and the proud 
face flushes, while the eyes glitter suspiciously. 

I run up stairs at length to find Dell. She is on the 
bed, crying, and is sweet, petulant, contradictory, and even 
hysterical. I give her some hartshorn and lavender, 
soothe her into coherency ; and, after a while, she goes 
bashfully down again, and blushes fike the reddest rose 
when Roger looks at her. 

We talk all the rest of the afternoon, all the evening, 
and half the night. The conclusion of it is, that, in two 
weeks, Roger must start back again, and he means to take 
his wife. “ Never mind about clothes,” he says : “ why, 


J’EOM HAKD TO MO0TH. 


299 


that dress is pretty enough to be married in! I shall 
always think a white ruffled apron the loveliest thing a 
lady can wear.” 

“ A wedding in two weeks I ” groans Theo in a whis- 
pered aside. “ Do you realize that there is just two dol- 
lars and a half in the house wherewith to purchase bridal 
raiment? ” 

We insist that Roger shall stay all night; but it is 
almost morning before any one is comfortable in bed. Dell 
doesn’t close her eyes, I know. It does seem so wonder- 
ful to have tliis great handsome lover hers ! To him it is 
but a yesterday that he went away : to us there is Archie’s 
grave, troubles, sorrows, perplexities, and long years be- 
tween ; but joy makes them shrink into nothing. 

The next day is Saturday. We talk and talk. Roger 
realizes now what a pale little shadow this sweetheart of 
his is. I think she looks worse to-day than any time yet ; 
and she cannot eat a mouthful. What are we to do with 
her? 

What we are to do any how is a profound mystery. 
The 6th of January, Roger appoints as a wedding-day. 
He cannot remain longer, and he will never be separated 
from Dell again. In a year or two he may come East to 
live. He is taking his money out of other things, and put- 
ting it in government bonds. 

“Business begins to have a shaky look to me,” he says. 
“We have gone on at such a rate, accumulating debts on 
every hand ; and, when pay-day comes, there will be a ter- 
rible time. Contraction must begin ere long. You cannot 
dance forever without paying the piper.” 

Dell has not the courage to go to church on Sunday with 
her lover ; but Theo does, and enjo3^s the staring mightily. 

“We can make her silk dress,” she sa^^s on Monday 
morning; “but she has nothing stjiish fora travelling- 
dress. Whatever can we do? ” 

Next Saturday I shall have some money ; but that is so 


800 


FROM TTAN D TO MOUTH. 


far off. Borrow money to buy wedding-clothes! oh, it 
seems too humiliating. However, we do begin the silk. 
How very fortunate Dell bought it as she did I E\ ery 
thing is in complete order, except the outside garments ; 
and they are the most important of all. 

I take courage the next morning, and go down town to a 
store where we have traded a good deal. “ Of course you 
can let the bill stand until Saturday, or a month, if 3’ou 
desire,” says pleasant Mr. Hallet, one of the partners. 
And now what can I buy for forty dollars ? Blue is so 
becoming to Dell. A suit with a waterproof, — hers is 
somewhat shabby, and blue is just coming in, — a white 
felt hat trimmed with blue velvet. 

I buy the cloth and the velvet, twenty-eight dollars. 
That is all I dare take. They are delighted at home ; and 
Dell is fairly wild. 

“ I have been longing for that blue,” she cries in ecs- 
tasy. “ Oh, you are all so good ! There, I will not care 
for another garment. Do you know, we are just going to 
church quietly half an hour before train-time, without a 
bit of fuss. Oh, dear! I can’t believe it is true, — never 
to be parted from Roger again ! ” 

“ That is love,” says Theo, with tears in her eyes. 
“ ‘ For this cause ’ shall a woman leave everybody.” 

On Wednesday we have finished the silk dress. Theo 
bestows upon Dell her beautiful thread-lace, aunt Clara’s 
gift. 

A carriage comes driving up to the door. It is Mrs. 
Hildreth’s handsome bays. So far we have imparted our 
secret to no one. 

Mrs. Hildreth hears it now in great surprise ; but it is no 
cause for grief. 

“ Next Tuesday — and getting ready at so short a no- 
tice ! Well, you girls are marvels I Now I must see the 
wedding-clothes. ’ ’ 

We all blush. Poverty is mortifying, in spite of all the 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


301 


heroic exhortations that have been penned. We display 
the little we have, and she thinks it in excellent taste. 

“I want to make you a small gift, Dell,” she says 
quietly. “ Could you meet me in New York to-morrow? ” 

“Why, yes! I could go down with Roger — Mr. 
Palmer ; ” and she blushes daintily. 

“I should like to meet Mr. Palmer. Well, say at 
twelve. Will that suit you? ” 

Dells thinks it will, with a kind of bashful grace. 

Roger is delighted to take her down the next day. 

Theo and I sew like busy bees. Even mother insists 
upon lending a hand. Dell doesn’t get home until quite 
late. Roger declares that they have been on a lark. He 
is so very merry ! And Dell seems quite herself. 

“ But, oh, dear ! I expect you will scold,” she saj^s. “ I 
could not help it, though. Roger would buy me a dress, 
— black silk and velvet, and — to think — a seal sack 
and muff. Mrs. Hildreth gave me a beautiful morning- 
dress of light-blue merino, and some laces, and a dozen 
exquisite handkerchiefs.” 

“Scold!” exclaims Roger saucily, confronting Theo. 
“It seems to me that you have kept Dell in mortal terror 
aU her life.” 

“ Scold ! ” echoes Theo. “ MTiy, everybody knows that 
I have been an angel in temper since I left my cradle.” 

“ And there is a French fashion, — I know I have read 
it in some novel, or other, — where the husband-elect 
gives the bride — well, I can’t think of the name ; ” and 
he looks puzzled. 

“ Corheille” suggests Theo radiantly. 

“ We cannot go to Paris : so we determined to have a 
bit of French manners.” 

“ Fe? I didn’t!” cries Dell, blushing furiously, yet 
laughing. “He is awfully — obstinate.” 

“ A sample of what you may expect. I am the biggest, 
and I ought to have my own way : there would be so 
much more of me to be disappointed ! ” 


302 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Every thing goes on nicely. Dell’s corheille is won- 
drously elegant. We have such a merry, merry time ! 
The lovers pursue their courtship unblushingly. Roger 
even says “mother” beforehand. Every thing is so 
delightfully different from Theo’s ill-starred marriage ! 

Saturday morning comes. I get my money, and we 
finish up the last. Theo trims the white felt hat with blue 
velvet, and adds a lovely ostrich-tip she had long ago. 
We send word to a few friends ; and Richard is sum- 
moned home. 

Dell dresses up in her pretty bravery. She looks so 
young and childlike, that she could easily pass for 
eighteen. Roger kisses her in a transport, and wonders 
why they cannot get married now, and have a little 
hone3rmoon at home. 

“No doubt you will have enough of me, if you wait 
until Tuesday,” answers Dell. 

He looks as if he could never have enough of her. It 
is very foolish, doubtless ; but, oh, so sweet ! We are not 
in the dreary world of a month ago : it has been made 
over blessedly for us.” 

“ To think that I might as well have married you a year 
ago, and had you in St. Louis all this time ! I never shall 
forgive myself,” cries Roger for the hundredth time, at 
least. 

But Tuesday morning has come ; and Dell is dressing 
in our room, — the last time in a long while, — and talks 
over her plans. There is no reason wh}’ we shouldn’t come 
out next summer ; and she is going to have father and 
mother take a delightful trip together, — a real wedding- 
journey, — to visit her before she comes home for good. 
Roger has promised that they shall be just like his very 
own parents. 

“If he had been poor and unfortunate, I should have 
married him all the same,” remarks Dell with a quaint, 
unworldly air. “ But it is so splendid, girls, to think that 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


303 


I shall not have to live in this — this — troublesome hand- 
to-mouth fashion. Well, why shouldn’t we thank God 
for riches? ” and she bristles up just as if some one had 
insisted that it was atrociously wicked. 

We go off to church at eleven. There is no bridesmaid ; 
but we all stand around. Quite a concourse of people 
have assembled. Dell and Roger repeat their vows rever- 
ently, and are husband and wife. 

We say good-by, and see them started on their journey. 
Mother wipes away a few tears. Her baby-daughter has 
gone first out of the dear home where we have spent our 
girlhood, — loving us all tenderly, yet glad to go with the 
man of her choice, the only lover of her sweet, guileless 
youth. 

“The heavens have fallen !” exclaims Theo senten- 
tiously ; “ I shall look every day for larks.’' 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


** At the first sight they have changed eyes.” — Tempest. 

We missed Dell greatly. It appeared so strange to see 
the little white bed in her room untouched, to have the 
machine silent! True, she had not done much through 
the winter, from ill-health, mental disquietude, and lack 
of employment. Even Theo’s smalt industry now had a 
powerful rival in the beautiful machine-embroidery for 
flannel, that bid fair to outstrip fairy-fingers. 

“ I wish there was something at which one could earn a 
little money ! ” sighed Theo. “ Pretty soon the world will 
be run by machinery, and half a dozen people can keep it 
in order.*’ 

“Most sadly true, Theo,” rejoined father. “In the 
higher kinds of labor you see a great deal of this. Three 
or four skilled workmen, with the appliances of to-day, can 
perform as much actual labor as twenty men years ago. 
Every thing is divided and subdivided, and reduced to an 
exact science.” 

With the opening of spring Dick looked around for 
something to do. 

“ It is odd,” he said in great perplexity ; “ but every- 
body advises me not to learn his particular trade, and 
brings hosts of objections. Every business is so cut 
up by machinery 1 Now I have a new fancy, — archi- 
tecture.” 

He found a place presently. The first year he woul^ 
304 


FEOM HAND TO MOTJTH. 


805 


not be worth any wages ; the second, two hundred dollars, 
perhaps ; and so on. 

“ I hate to be a drag on 3"ou two or three years 
longer,’’ he declared. 

“ If building is good, you may have plenty of business,” 
said father ; ‘ ‘ but it seems to me that every little hamlet 
is getting so fuU of houses, that presently there will be an 
outcry for tenants, instead. 

A friend offered him a position in the mail-service, 
salary the first year was six hundred, — if he could find 
two bondsmen ; and there would be opportunities for pro- 
motion. 

Mr. Sargent became one, father the other. One week 
he would be very busy, and on the road most of the time ; 
the next he would have considerable leisure. Then he 
resolved to study up short-hand writing as weU; which 
Mr. Sargent approved of highly. 

Consequently one week there were but four of us in fam- 
ily. Our house seemed too large. We talked a little of 
selling. 

“ No, don’t ! ” begged Dick. “ When I come to have 
a fair salary, and a little money saved up, I should like 
to marry, and take the house ; that is, if you shouldn’t 
want it.” 

He was a great favorite with young women already. 

I felt quite rich as spring advanced. We actually treats* 
ed ourselves to a new summer silk ; for prices were com- 
paratively reasonable. 

Aunt Hetty was veiy much astonished over Dell’s mar- 
riage ; but she rejoiced that poor Joseph wasn’t fated to 
keep all three of the girls on his hands. Aunt Clara in- 
vited us down, and sent to Dell a handsome lace shawl. 
The Van Korts were still abroad. Blanche had gone to 
Germany to study, and was engaged to some professor. 
The new family of children were coming on. Aunt Clara 
looked jaded, and somehow had grown quite uncomforta- 
ble. Fashionable life was a most tyrannical regime* 


306 


FEOM HAND TO INIOUTH. 


Mrs. Percy Waring, nee Henderson, had surprised the 
world with a work on art that had been very well received. 
Mollie had published a new book on German home-life, 
that was praised without stint. Fairfax Henderson was 
still a dilettante artist ; but what matter, since he was rich? 
Old Mr. and Mrs. Henderson travelled about consider- 
ably, and were pronounced charming. 

We heard fi:om Mollie at intervals ; and they were three- 
volnmed, incoherent, jolly epistles, that lightened your 
heart for a month. 

“ I think the height of human felicity would be to go 
out to Germany, and visit Mollie McKnight,’' said Theo. 
“ There, that sounds for all the world like an Irish 
name.” 

Of our present friends we enjoyed Mrs. Hildreth the 
most. She made me think a little of Mrs. Gennain in 
her charming hospitality. Theo and I went up quite fre- 
quently on Friday, and remained until Monday morning. 

Somehow Theo seemed to be losing strength again. 
The warm days enfeebled her ; and the palpitation was at 
times almost unendurable. Mrs. Hildreth prescribed a 
summer in the Catskills ; and Dell pleaded so for us both 
to visit her ! She was so happy, so round and rosy, that 
we would hardly know her. She had picked out husbands 
for both Theo and I. 

Late one June afternoon, I sat on the porch, finishing 
the last pages of Mollie’s book — we had both been so 
warmly interested in it ! Theo was lounging in the ham- 
mock, which had been newly adjusted for the summer. 

Some one touched the gate, — a large, fair man, a 
stranger to me. He stood in an attitude of indecision ; 
and I remarked his white, shapely hand, with its clear, 
pink nails. 

“Is it Miss Durant who does live here?” was the 
inquiry. 

“It is.” I rose, and went down the steps. 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


307 


“ Ah! ” with a profound bow, lifting his hat from a 
head that was golden-crowned, I was about to say ; but 
the abundant cuids were not quite so ruddy. 

“ There is a Mrs. Ross — I come from an old friend in 
Berlin ; ” and he blushed with a kind of ingenuous em- 
barrassment. “ You do not remember me. I met 3 ’^ou 
and your sister one summer at her house, when she was 
Miss Henderson.** 

“ Oh ! ’* and I uttered a cry of surprise. But what his 
name might be, I had no more idea than the man in the 
moon. 

Theo stepped out of her n}Tnph*s couch, and came for- 
ward. There was a faint wild-rose tint in her cheek. He 
glanced up with that certain joy of recognition, his fair 
face flushing over the smiles. 

‘‘.Why ! ** she said, holding out her hand, “ it is — Mr. 
Von HiUern.** 

“Ah, Mrs. Ross I You have done me the honor to 
remember me ; ** and his face glowed with pleasure. 

“ I remember your voice perfectl 3 ^ You have changed 
— a little,** she returned hesitatingly. 

“Oh, yes ! ’* with that wholesome, inspiriting laugh. “I 
was, as you might say, a great boy ; and, oh ! I could not 
talk scarcely at all. You were so good to my blunders 1 
I have just come from Berlin, where I did leave your 
friend Mrs. McKnight.** 

“ And you don’t ask him in, or any thing I ** cried Theo. 
“ How stupid of you, Chris ! — We are so glad to see you, 
Mr. Von Hillern, for your own sake, as well as the news 
you bring us of so dear a friend 1 ** And, wdth a gracious 
wave of her hand, she opened the door. 

“ Nay, do not go within. It is fragrant and delightful 
here. If you do not mind ? You American people live 
so seldom out of doors ! ’* 

There was a chair or two, and a roomy seat across the 
end of the porch. We all sat down, and began talking 


308 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


like the oldest of friends. Was Mollie any changed ? And 
what about Mr. McKnight and the wonderful baby ? 

I sat and listened like one in a dream. If I only could 
be rich enough to send Theo to Germany ! If all of us — 

They were both laughing, — his full mellow tones, and 
her rich, clear, dropping notes, with the pellucid sound of 
falling water. No, I could not stop to speculate, I must 
listen. 

How Mollie and her husband lived and worked and 
idled ; the maid and the baby (a sturdy boy called Felix) ; 
and how delighted she was when he had announced his 
determination to come to America ; how many messages 
and gifts she had sent to her sisters and friends. But she 
had talked so much of us ; and he had come here first. 
He had only been in since noon yesterday. 

I heard mother’s soft voice, and, excusing myself, 
went in. Was it a visitor to stay? And would we have 
strawberries for supper? If so, some one must go out to 
buy them. 

I decided that we would, and put on my hat, stealing 
quietly out of the side-entrance. Their gay voices fioated 
over to me, and I smiled to m3"self at the sound. 

Mr. Von Hillern demurred a little at first, but was 
induced to accept our hospitalit3\ Father could not get 
home until eight in the evening; but we generally had 
supper at the proper time. Our guest was very delightful 
with his foreign ways and quaintl^^-put- together sentences. 
He was a professor of music, it seemed ; and, being the 
3"Oungest son, still lived at home with his parents, who 
were very old people. Two brothers, and a plentiful sup- 
ply of sisters, he had ; but all were married and settled, 
except one sister, who was practising medicine at Vienna. 
His mother had come to know Mrs. McKnight, and liked 
her so much ! 

Then he made us laugh b}^ going over his first amusing 
acquaintance with Miss Mollie, and how she had insisted 


FHOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


809 


he should come to her house to meet some people ; how 
awkward and strange he had felt, until Mrs. Koss was so 
good to talk to him, and overlook his blunders. 

“ Really,” said Theo, after he had gone away with full 
permission to repeat the visit as often as he liked during 
his stay, — “ really, I feel revived and refreshed, as if I 
had been taking some inspiriting draught. How oddly 
people do alfect you ! I wonder if all these occult and 
mysterious things ever will come to be thoroughly under- 
stood and acted upon. Some people drain the very soul 
out of you : others give, like a continual feast.” 

“ Mr. Von Hillern is such a splendid specimen of per- 
fect health ! And that magnificent physique ! He is in a 
continual glow, like sunshine. Why, I feel better my- 
self! ” I exclaimed with animation. “And it is such a 
delight to hear about Mollie ! I feel toward her quite as 
if she were one of our own relatives.” 

“ And we have been related by that sjunpathetic cord 
of poverty, that hand-to-mouth struggle,” laughed Theo. 
“ She may grow out of it ; but there will be a picture or 
a something to reveal the weak place of temptation. Oh 1 
do you remember how ridiculous I was the day before 
Christmas, and how lovely it all came out? ” 

The next morning we were back to common life. 
How warm it was ! And, oh, how fearfully dull the children 
were ! Of course I wanted them to do their very best, 
for examination. The School Board were always talking 
about the reputation and standing of the several schools. 
I dare say the children were crammed ; but, if all they 
studied last October fell out of their leaky heads, your 
duty was to cram it back in June. Not so much what 
your children knew thoroughly, but how many you had 
promoted, was the crucial test. 

I came home fagged out and discouraged. Theo sat up 
in our room, sewing on the machine, which she indulged 
in a little now and then, never very long at a time. 


810 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ I am SO thankful there is only one more week ! and I 
toss my hat down on the bed. “I am tired to death. 
Theo, do you reahze that I have taught school ten years, 
and that I may go on ten more? ” 

“ Oh, I hope not ! ’’ she says earnestly. 

“ It is a high and noble calhng, yet one that the most 
of us are mighty glad to lay down when vacation comes, 
and generally, I observe, when we are invited to marry 
any one.’* 

“ I am not sure about that ; ” and she laughs. 

“ Am I growing cross, Theo, threadbare in temper? ” 

“ You are very tired ; and this week’s work is extremely 
hard. Take comfort. There is a balm even in school- 
teaching. Do 3^ou see how pretty this lawn is going to 
make over ? Those ruffles came off of Dell’s brown skirt. ’ ’ 

I cannot even care for ruffles. I take off my dress, and 
slip into a sack, and, lading the pillow-sham carefully over 
on Theo’s side of the bed, drop down, intensely wearied 
in body and mind. The machine goes on with its whirr ; 
but it always seems to me that Theo sews more daintily 
than any one else. There is a peculiar sensitive delicacy 
about her, and she carries it into every thing. 

The seam or hem is done. In the summer silence I 
hear a step coming along the street, firm and manful, as it 
nears, and pauses at the gate. 

“ Oh ! ” cries Theo, “ Mr. Von HiUern, Chrissie ! Do 
get up, dear ! I must run down. How do I look? ” 

She is in white, with a bit of Roman ribbon at her 
throat and in her hair. As she shps off her large sewing- 
apron, she appears perfect to me. 

How long she is gone, I know not ; but she returns pres- 
ently with a radiant face. She shows the least bit of joy 
so quickly ! 

“ Chrissie,” she says, “ Mr. Yon Hillern wants to take 
us both to drive, anywhere in the pretty countr}^ ways. 
He spent the morning with Mrs. Waring, and — think ! — . 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


311 


consulted her on the propriety of such a step ; ” and she 
laughs merrily. “ Come, dress yourself. He has gone 
for the carriage.” 

I do it in a languid manner. I am too tired even for 
pleasure. 

But when we are fairly started, and I catch the infection 
of his joyous, stirring mood, I am roused, brightened into 
new life. There is a driver : so Von Hillern sits facing 
us. He is dressed in some soft gray material that tones 
down the brilliance, and gives him such a comfortable, 
restful look. There is a little houtonniere on his coat-lap- 
pel ; and, oh, there is its mate at Theo’s throat ! 

Something comes over me that makes my head dizzy 
and my eyes blind, — a sharp pang, as if my heart had 
been pierced through and tlirough. This bright and gal- 
lant gentleman, with his fine blood and wholesome fiesh, 
his eager, active brain, his true, loyal, generous soul, — for 
he carries all this in his face, — is in love with Theo. 
When and how it happened is all a mystery ; but those 
almost devouring glances, that careful consideration, that 
little lowering of tone and indescribable humility, mean 
love. He has come over the seas to win her. The “ royal 
dames at home ” have been again left for “ fair Inez.” 

And she sits there serenely unconscious. Will she love 
him? 

That I cannot answer so readily. 

He talks in his pleasant, easy way : there is a delight 
in the sound of his voice. He has been telling of his 
mother’s golden- wedding, which was six years ago : he is 
just twenty-eight. His eyes kindle and glow ; his red lips 
part with smiles. There is such a charming simplicity’ 
about him, the honest impulsiveness that goes straight to 
one’s heart. Theo asks questions, and he is delighted to 
explain. 

Somewhere we stumble upon a country hotel. There is 
an early moon ; and, if we will go in and have some supper, 


312 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


we can finish our ride by moonlight. ^Theo assents with 
the graciousness of a queen, and we have a merry meal. 
W e do not reach home until nine in the evening. 

Would it be asking too great a favor if he came over 
again? he inquires wistfully. 

“ Why, no! ” answers Theo frankly, and smiles upon 
him in a manner that I know must stir every pulse. Is 
she unconsciously coquetting? 

School is much better the next day. The children have 
managed to retain something. And really they do me 
considerable credit. 

On the last day the commissioners are in, peering about, 
and asking what they consider sharp questions. 

Mr. James Miller walks up to me rather pompously. 

“ Ah, Miss Durant ! '’ he says, “ are you school-teaching 
yet?"' and his eyes open wide in assumed astonishment. 
Does he pay off the old score once for all? 

Every drop of blood within me boils ; stiU I think I do 
not turn red in the face. Some phases of anger make you 
white. 

“Yes,*’ I answer, with the composure of an angel. 
“But I suppose I need not have been, if I had married 
you.” 

He does turn red. Miss Mason, a rather pert, snub- 
nosed second assistant, gives way to something between a 
sniff and a giggle, and ends with a hard cough. I want 
to laugh ; but I go serenely about my business, and leave 
him to recover his ease and self-possession. 

I have to repeat the skirmish to Theo, who enjoys it 
l>eyond measure. Oh ! what shall I ever do without her? 

Two weeks have elapsed since Mr. Von Hillern first 
came. In that time he has made ten visits. We have 
ridden ; we have walked ; we have sung ; and, oh ! he has 
made such divine music out of our old piano that I think 
of fabled Orpheus. All this time Theo has improved so 
strangely ! It seems as if she had drank of his redundant 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


313 


life as of some wonderful elixir. She has gone back to 
girlhood, and is hardly a day over eighteen. Dell’s letter 
lies unanswered ; Mrs. Hildreth’s proposal is not consid- 
ered. 

“There is time enough,” she says, as if she did not 
want to be disturbed with the future. 

But one evening I can play “ gooseberry ” no longer. 
I feel in my pulses that Franz Von Hillern’s impatient 
step as he paces to and fro on the vine-covered porch 
means that he wants to take Theo in those strong, manly, 
tender arms, and kiss right into the tremulous sweetness 
of her mouth. So I slip off, without so much as a good- 
night. I retire to my side of the bed, and cry softly, “ It 
is very hard.” 

She comes up stairs some time before midnight, leans 
over, finds my face, and kisses it. Ah ! she has been 
weeping too, but not such tears as mine. For many min- 
utes we do not speak. 

“ I knew it all, Theo,” I say at length in an unsteady 
tone. 

“Did you? I never even dreamed! Why, I hoped 
he would like you,” bristling up in her olden fashion. 
“ Chrissie, it seems incredible, unreal.” 

“ Do you love him,” I cry passionately. 

“ Do I? Would it be best? Chrissie, he is the first 
man I have met that I could love with my whole heart. 
In the fall I shall be twenty-five.” 

“ Age has nothing to do with it,” I protest vehemently. 

“ It is so strange ! When he met Mollie last winter, he 
asked about me. He did not know whether I were mar- 
riageable or not ; and I can just imagine how she told him 
my story in her impulsive manner. Well, he dreamed 
himself in love with me, — it is absurd, — and wanted her 
to write, or to take it in hand some way. How Mollie ever 
came to use such good sense, I don’t know ; but she bade 
hiTu wait. His business-engagements were such, that he 


314 


FBOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


could not make arrangements to leave Germany until 
June. And then he came — to find me. It was nothing 
else, although he made such a pretence about America at 
first. Mollie bound him not to say a word until he had 
been here a month. He has broken that, of course,” she 
says meditatively. “ Then he was to give me this letter 
when he did speak. It is from her. Let us read it to- 
gether.” 

She turns up the gas. We sit on the edge of the bed, 
and unfold it. It is Mollie ’s irregular hand, the letters 
falling apart, as her garments invariably threatened to do. 

“ My dear Theo,” it begins, ‘‘ I don’t know that Franz 
Von Hillern will mind one word that I said to him : on the 
contrary, no doubt, he will carve out original German 
paths for himself. I hardly dare hope that you will love 
him ; yet such a thing might be. That he loves you is 
beyond any question ; and it seems to me he could make 
his wife the happiest woman under the sun. The romance 
and grief of your pathetic little story touched his heart. 
He has made me tell it over a hundred times, I think ; 
and I do believe he would go to Scotland, or the ends of 
the earth, to ‘ crack every bone in Mr. Ross’s body.’ O 
Theo ! can’t you listen? can’t you love? 

“ Mr. Von Hillern is most respectably connected. 
Every member of his family is reputable ; and, without 
being absolutely rich, none of them are poor. He has 
passed his twenty-eight years mostly in Berlin ; and there 
are no old ghosts to be exhumed as skeletons at any after- 
feast. A good, genial, honest, hearty man, a prince^ my 
dear. Johnny is almost jealous of him. Oh, I want to 
coax and plead ; but actually, Theo, I am afraid of j^ou. 
But you need not fear to love him, if your heart so elects. 
If he is foolish and hasty and impetuous, forgive him : it 
is his great love.” 

“ How odd for her to write in that almost solemn man- 
ner I And now for the rest. His brother-in-law’s brother, 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


315 


a Mr. Berthold, is an importer in New York. He has a 
number of friends in the city to vouch for him. So his 
standing appears unexceptionable.” 

‘‘ Theo, how coldly 3"ou take it ! ” I say in surprise ; and 
there is such a strange look about her face. 

“ I must take it calmly, dear, until I have decided. If 
I once resolved ” — 

She buries her face in her hands, and gives one of those 
long, dry, tremulous sobs. 

“ Theo,” I cry, “ you will kill ^^ourseLf. You are think- 
ing of us ! You were thinking of us when yon married 
before. Put it all away. What would you do if you 
stood quite alone?” 

“Oh, I should go to the ends of the earth with him! 
I should, Chrissie ; ” and her face is transfigured. 

“ Then you love him.” 

“ I love him.” 


CHAPTER XXVn. 

** If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling.” 

Twelfth Night. 

“ O Perdita ! what have we twain forgot ? ” 

Winter’s Tale. 

For all Theo’s tender midnight confession to me, she 
hardl}^ admits to any one else that she is in love. She 
teases Mr. Von Hillern in her daring, audacious way ; and 
he looks at her with great persuasive blue eyes that seem 
made to coax the soul out of one. He brings over Mr. 
Berthold and a cousin, who speak more highly of him 
than he has spoken of himself. Mrs. Hildreth comes 
down one day, and learns how matters stand : indeed, 
meets Mr. Von Hillern, who now spends most of his time 
at Northwood, gravitating between his hotel and Cottage 
Place. In a neighborhood like ours, the advent of such 
a man as this fine, fair, conspicuous-looking German, 
attracts general attention. Mrs. Hildreth is charmed with 
him. 

To our great surprise. Dr. Sheldon drops in one morn- 
ing. 

“ What does all this going-on mean? ” he gi’owls out, 
in the bear-like way he puts on when there is not a tint 
of crossness at his heart. ‘‘Miss Theo, did I see you 
riding out with the Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, or 
was it the Grand Duke Constantine? You can take no 
more important steps without my consent, you know.” 

“I think that is just what I am waiting for,” cries 
316 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


317 


Theo. “Will you listen to my foolish love-stoiy, and 
advise? ” 

“ I’ll listen,” with a threatening nod. 

He sits down beside Theo, and actually puts his arm 
around her, draws her near in a friendly, fatherly manner. 
A ridiculous idea enters my head. Dr. Sheldon’s wife 
died a few months after Archie. He was very kind to 
Theo before ; but since then there has been so much good, 
honest friendship in our intercourse ! and the occasional 
calls when no one was really ill. 

Theo hesitates a little at first, and then admits her incli- 
nation. But Mr. Von Hillern wants to take her home to 
Germany. He has promised his parents never to leave 
them ; and they are old people, both nearing eighty. 
After that, if she likes, he will come to America. Can 
she leave her own dear household? Would she be likely 
to live long enough to return? And how about the sea- 
voyage ? There is so much to consider ; and she has 
learned now that a little happiness for one’s self is not all. 

“Then unlearn it,” says the doctor sharply. “You, 
of all others, have earned the right to be happy, through 
sutfering such as comes to but few, thank God ! If you 
love this man, if he is suitable, if he can give you that 
rest, that satisfaction a woman of your temperament 
needs, go your way with him. But I must see him : this 
is a pie in which I mean to put my finger ! ” 

Then he turns, and kisses Theo reverently on the fore- 
head. 

“You have been so good to me ! ” she murmurs, with 
her eyes full of tears. 

So he meets Mr. Von Hillern, and is wonderfully 
attracted. He goes to New York, and inquires, leaving 
no stone untui’ned. Theo shall step into no trouble this 
time, if human foresight can prevent. 

When this is all settled, Theo’s pride and prudence, and 
fear and obstinacy and coolness, suddenly collapse. She 


318 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


declares that she is in a mild and beaming state of idiocy, 
and begs that nothing she shall do or say be remembered 
against her. As for Mr. Von Hillern, he tramps in and 
out of the house like a king ; but he is so tenderly humble 
to his little queen! He “ransacks the ages, and spoils 
the climes,’’ for rare flowers that we do not possess in our 
parterre ; he brings home fruit ; then he is seized with a 
mania for buying jewelry, until Theo absolutely com- 
mands him to waste no more money in riotous living. 
Mollie is written to ; but, before the letter can reach her, 
a joyful, incoherent one comes, in answer to something 
Franz has hinted. 

“Everybody seems to have a finger in this pie,” says 
Theo drolly. 

Even aunt Hetty comes up to spend the day, and asks 
us a hundred times, I am quite sure, if we are certain this 
“ Mr. Vanneren,” as she calls him, hasn’t a wife and chil- 
dren in Germany. She thinks Theo ought to be so careful 
this time ! And how can she make up her mind to go so 
far away from her own folks ? 

Aunt Hetty has broken a great deal. She is not yet 
sixty ; but she looks like an old woman, goes around 
clumsily, and keeps her head on a shake aU the time, as 
if there was a spiral spring in her neck. She is in such a 
fret, too, about her money. Whenever she hears of a fail- 
ure, she is sure hers will be the next to go, and in her old 
age she will be left without a penny. She has worked so 
hard, too, for the little she has, and it would be cruel to 
lose it I 

“Well,” says mother, as we sit by ourselves in the 
evening, “ if I had to take aunt Hetty’s disposition with 
her money, I would much rather be as poor as we are. 
It is just such people who bring wealth into disrepute, 
and, strange to say, the very ones who are held up to 
point a moral. It is not the fault of the poor, guiltless 
money. Hetty was selfish and slaving, and forever 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


319 


scrimping, in her j^outh, denying herself the comforts of 
life for the sake of laying by a sixpence. In Martha’s 
house she is little better than a servant ; and, when she 
dies, her money will go to swell Martha’s purse and 
consequence. I would rather have my life, with all its 
pinches and poverty, children and love. Why,” and in 
mother’s earnestness her face flushes a pretty, girlish 
pink, “I should be ashamed to meet your father at the 
day of judgment, before aU the angels, if I had done 
nothing more for his happiness than was done for poor 
uncle Frank’s.” 

Theo’s matters get settled about the middle of August. 
She will be married the first of September, with no more 
fuss than at Dell’s wedding. Dell learns the cause of our 
interrupted visit, and comes flying on without Roger, who 
is sure to be in time for the grand event. She is oddly 
pretty and consequential as Mrs. Palmer. She knows so 
much of the world and its ways ; and Roger is quoted as 
being of equal authority with the Ten Commandments. 
Perhaps a good husband, like a good wife, is “ of God.” 
She buys Theo a most lovely wedding-silk, — Roger’s gift 
and hers; “for,” says she, “we knew you didn’t want 
spoons and forks and casters to take to Germany.” 
Percy Waring brings fine laces. Jo visits her, fairly 
armed with a dowry from herself and Mrs. Germain ; and 
every soul of them will be at the wedding. 

We have the fuss, after all. Two dressmakers are in 
the house for a week, — the flrst time in our lives we 
have indulged in such a luxury. Theo does nothing but 
meander round with Franz, in a state of beatific indolence, 
and talk a little broken German in a deliciously fascinat- 
ing manner. “Thou shalt not sew!” declares Franz, 
with a comically-ferocious look out of his laughing blue 
ej^es. “ Thou shalt not ” this or that, as the case happens 
to be. 

“You are a Decalogue 3^ourself, and more,” says Theo 
with saucy tenderness. 


320 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“A — what? ” puzzled and blushing. “ I do not jet 
understand all your American terms. But, with God’s 
help, I hope to prove a kind, indulgent husband to thee, 
and care for thee as the good doctor ordered. O Mig- 
nonne ! thou shalt be kept well and happy and beautiful.” 

“You foolish old darling, to think me such a treasure ! ” 
And Theo kisses him rapturously. 

I do wonder if I shall ever be as idiotic as Dell,” she 
remarks afterward, when Franz is out of sight. “I 
don’t wonder the world laughs at lovers. But what mat- 
ter, when love is so rarely sweet ! Lovers were ridiculous, 
even in Shakspeare’s day. Paris, no doubt, maundered 
over Helen ; and I dare sa}" Jacob was a little spooney 
when he succeeded in getting Rachel to himself.” 

And so love is justified in its own eyes. 

Mother and Dell have so many mysterious communings, 
that we call them the “old ladies.” And how different 
this is, in its good fellowship, from the days of Mr. Ross ! 

One afternoon Theo goes to church with her betrothed ; 
and a procession of carriages follow. She looks enchant- 
ing, in her soft, light silk of an indescribable color, like 
early twilight ; the jaunty jacket fitting her to perfection. 
Her hat is of the same shade, with two pale pink roses 
under the brim, against her dark hair, and a plume of the 
delicate tint, wondrously exquisite. Her gloves are blos- 
som-color : she will have no white, save that soft fall of 
lace around her neck. Mr. Von Hillern is radiant with 
the grace of unspeakable tenderness. 

The church is full. People wonder how Mrs. Ross can 
have the courage to marry a German, and go away, after 
her other unfortunate episode. When there was danger, 
no voice was raised to warn ; now there is none, latent 
wisdom is blatant. She is serenely unconscious of the 
curious eyes. 

We all go down to New York. Percy Waring retains 
the family faculty of being splendid in an emergency. 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


321 


Mr. and Mrs. Yon Hillern, Mrs. Germain and her tall, 
pretty daughter, are to go to a hotel ; but Percy will keep 
the rest of us. Josepha is bright, witty, and audacious, 
still “ nut-brown,” but now the mother of a cherub boy. 
Adrienne is resolved there shall be one old maid in the 
Henderson family. Mrs. Henderson is resplendent in a 
new black silk. Her book is finished. 

“But I shall wait,” she explains in a tone of beatific 
content, “until MoUie comes home. Percy is admirable 
authority on art ; but she never had any head for history. 
Then MoUie has had so many foreign advantages ! ” 

They keep the house in a whirl until the next day, and 
end by sending absurd messages to MoUie. Life with 
them seems a grand jest, a stupendous froUc. Oh, how 
many hearts they have made happy! Humming-birds 
may have wise uses as weU as owls. 

“Remember,” Theo says, with her arms about my 
neck, “ that, let come what will, — Ufe or death, — I have 
had one taste of rapture, some hours of unspeakable hap- 
piness. Do not wony about me. Oh I it seems almost 
wickedly selfish to have so much, to go away.” 

Her eyes swim in tears. 

“ No, no ! ” I cry. “ Thank God ! ” 

Dell and Roger are olf again. Dell comforts mother 
with the word that they are surely coming back. 

We return to our quiet house. Richard and I are all 
of the once merry group. 

I have had a substitute for a fortnight ; but, when the 
house is in order, I take up my school-duties. 

“We have spent money dreadfully!” says mother. 
“I owe Dick one hundred dollars, and the taxes and 
interest. Father’s life-insurance is paid.” 

“ Never mind. It will be good to have some urgent 
aim. The work will keep us from brooding over our lone- 
liness,” I reply. 

Will the need of econom}" ever be over us — with me? 


322 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Dick will be one of the thrifty young men. He is sav- 
ing his money ; means to bu}^ government bonds, and all 
that. He gives mother five dollars a week ; but now she 
tells him he is to pay no more for the present, until his 
amount has been returned. It is the easiest way to make 
it up. Archie’s purse, like mine, was a family purse. 
Dear, sweet Archie, generous and tender of heart ! Ah, 
if he could have lived to see Theo so happy ! 

The last of the month the world stands aghast, trans- 
fixed, stunned. The day will be handed down to all time 
as Black Friday. The bubble has been pricked, the col- 
lapse surely begun. We, and hundreds of others, have 
made no fortunes through this wild era of prosperity. 
Must we suffer too ? 

We get our interest paid: it takes two months of my 
salary to do it. As for clothes — there are so many 
garments to make over, and we are adepts in that busi- 
ness. I can get along without any thing new. 

We have heard from the travellers. Theo was very sick 
on the passage. Mrs. McKnight came to meet them. 
Dear, kind Mollie ! They go to Berlin by easy stages ; 
and then Theo writes a few scrawling lines in her hus- 
band’s letter, and Dr. Sheldon has some word. The 
matter must have been quite serious. But for Theo to 
die now — oh, what a sad satire it would be upon hope ! 
Yet I remember her solemn words at parting. Oh, my 
darling ! She has been happy. Franz says now that he 
should die without her. 

And yet I must live in the empty room ; I must live 
without her smile, her caressess, her comforting voice, her 
merry gibes at poverty when times are hardest, her 
plans, and, oh ! herself. What an awful void it is, after 
having been together all these years ! There are nights 
when I want to cry out with the bitter pang. 

By and by Theo writes a splendid long letter. She i& 
making rapid progress. The German father and mother 


FKOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


321 


adore her. They have been to Vienna to visit the medi- 
cal sister-in-law ; and she is just lovely, — a large-hearted, 
gracious, refined woman. Mollie’s boy is wonderful ; and 
she has a little girl a fortnight old, named Theo Durant. 
Mr. McKnight has been doing some translating that is 
highly commended. They wiU remain a year or two longer ; 
and they make Berlin appear like home. She is the same 
MoUie, with her happy disregard of any thing beside to- 
day, although they are working for the future. “ Tell Dr. 
Sheldon,” Theo says, “ that I think I shall live to a good 
old age.” 

By the first of January we have paid our taxes, and are 
out of debt. 

“ Now,” says mother, with a touch of triumph in her 
voice, “ I am not going to take any more of your money, 
Chrissie. Father’s and Dick’s will sufllce for current 
household expenses. You have always been such a com- 
fort, with your generous heart and thoughtful ways ; and 
now you must begin to think of some pleasures of your 
own. If you only can go out to St. Louis next sum- 
mer ! ” 

Alas for our short-lived prosperity ! The firm father is 
with fails, and he is out of a situation. Everybody is 
quaking for fear. Uncle Kobert complains loudly of 
losses ; but there seems no stint in the magnificent house. 
The Millers appear to swim on the topmost wave : they 
rush their real estate into market at attractive prices, 
compared with what most people have asked all along, and 
it sells rapidly. 

“ A foolish move! ” cry the wise-acres, shaking their 
heads. “ Stocks and bonds may fail, and railroads and 
mines melt into unsubstantial dreams ; but real estate can- 
not go down. There are so many people in the world, and 
the}^ must have houses. Government bonds are a mere 
bagatelle.” 

The years to come shall prove it the height of wisdom. 


324 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Dell sends us word of a new advent, — Archer Durant 
Pahner. Do we realize that we are grandfathers and 
grandmothers, uncles and aunts ? 

There is such a happy hght in mother’s face. “ Dell’s 
little boy,” she says softly. “There will be a new 
Archie.” 

And so, Archie up in heaven, God has sent another 
soul to brighten your vacant place. 

March comes in. Father gets quite discouraged, look- 
ing for employment. Building is stirring up somewhat, 
though sensitive wages have felt the check. He might 
work a while at that until — 

Until he is worn out again. But his fifteen dollars a 
week seem quite a godsend, only, if there were not so 
much lost time. Yet it may be better for him. 

I take a httle cold, and somehow am not well. All my 
life I have had such splendid health ; but now I droop, 
grow thin, have no appetite, and every thing drags. The 
nights are long and sleepless : the da^^s are long and tire- 
some. I do not want to go anywhere, but just sit and 
mope in the room Theo has left. Sometimes I stretch out 
my hands in the empty space, and cry, “ Theo, Theo ! ” 
in an entreating, pitiful voice. “ Your half of the hfe is 
supplied in Franz : oh ! what shall supply mine ? What 
shall ease the intolerable aching? ” 

Then I utter a little hysterical thanksgiving. I am glad 
she is not here in the strain and burthen of poverty. 
What is there grand and ennobhng in this continual strug- 
gle for daily bread ? WFy do such men as Stephen and 
James Miller, who are in no sense noble, prosper, while 
men like father toil on and on ? 

“ You must give up,” declares Dr. Sheldon. “ Take a 
month for rest.” 

“ I cannot, ” I reply decisively. “ There are only three 
months more, and — I want the money.” 

“ Money ! ” he fiings out. “ I don’t approve of women 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


325 


entering this race for gold. They get narrow and sordid 
sooner than men. Come, now : how much money have you 
in the bank, Miss Chrissie? ” 

“How much! — not a penny!’’ I answer bitterly. 
“Think of the few hundreds a year, of the sickness and 
misfortunes, Archie’s four years given to the country, and 
his death ! And now, since the middle of January, there 
have been five dollars a week from Dick, and my salary. 
It has been so many a time before. Ah, no wonder I 
have grown sordid ! I ought to have thousands, of course ; 
but we could not starve while I was putting money in the 
bank.” 

“ Child, you are wearing out! Your nerves are sharp 
and tense, and will snap some day. Be warned in time ! 
There, I’ll take back what I said : it was cruel. God 
knows I have seen and understood enough of women’s 
heroism ! ” 

‘ ‘ Will you give me a tonic ? I must and shall work on, ” 
I say determinedly. 

“ You obstinate httle thing ! You need something be- 
side. Yes, you shall have it.” 

He looks me over so curiously ! I almost hate him for 
the friendly freedom. I have a strange, smouldering hatred 
for every thing, I think. Shall I be a sharp-tempered old 
maid ? June will bring my nine and twentieth birthday. 

So I drag on between headaches, and that awful wea- 
riness when every joint seems as if it would fall apart, 
sleeplessness, restless, feverish spells. Mother tries to 
comfort, and cooks delicious little messes, that taste like 
ashes in my mouth. May comes and goes. June is warm. 
I cannot bear the sun, the twitter of happy birds. Oh 
if I could go to Theo, and then die ! Can I hold out until 
July? 

The examinations pass. I come home, and take to the 
sofa, limp as a Madeira-vine. Dr. Sheldon is in and out. 
Mrs. Hildreth insists that I shall spend a month with her. 


326 


FEOM HAOT) TO MOUTH. 


Percy Waring begs me to visit her at Watch Hill. Dell 
pleads for my summer at St. Louis. If they would all let 
me alone until this intolerable fatigue is over ! 

‘‘ Chrissie, you are not recovering at all!'’ says Dr. 
Sheldon sorrowfully, one afternoon. 

I am lying on the sofa in the cool, shady parlor, watch- 
ing the many worn spots on the carpet. What happy feet 
danced over it last summer ! The windows are open, and 
green shadows flit about like dryads. What absurd inci- 
dents enter one’s mind ! I remember hearing mother tell, 
that, when we flrst came here, she borrowed five dollars of 
grandmother to buy that honeysuckle, and dead and gone 
roses. Does the creeping, clinging woodbine feel old, I 
wonder. 

“Medicine doesn’t do you any good. You are too 
young to be worn out ; you have too much latent vitality. 
You are too good, yes, too good and too nice to ” — 

He takes my limp hand again, and searches for the 
thread-like pulse. 

“You must have a change, something to rouse you. 
Chrissie, my dear girl, will you marry me? ” 

I am roused now. I start up like a galvanized corpse ; 
my eyes, doubtless, stare in the same fashion. 

“ Marry — you? ” I articulate automatically. 

“ Well — yes.” And, rising, he begins to pace the floor. 
“ Jf Theo was here, she would pronounce it absurd : that 
was her pet word. Yet I don’t know as it is. I have 
been thinking of it all winter.” 

“You loved sweet, darhng Theo! You know you 
did,” I cry passionately. 

“ Yes, of course I did. She could have played fast 
and loose with men’s hearts, if she had chosen. I should 
like to have just such a daughter. But I never thought 
of marrying her. I have never cared to marry any 
woman since” — I know just what he refrains from say- 
ing — “ until now ; and I want you. I am six and forty, 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


327 


old enough to be sensible, but foolish still. My little girl, 
I can take good care of you ; I can lift this heavy burthen 
off your shoulders ; I can bring you back to hope and 
health, and, please God, I will.” 

I deliberately ignore the kindly tone, the wistful, plead- 
ing eyes. 

“ And so,” I reply, “ you propose to marry me from a 
pure missionary spirit, — to save me. Thank you. Dr. 
Sheldon, I am not yet reduced to such an extremity.” 

“ Chrissie, you are depressed, and strained in every 
nerve. You have had such a long, unbroken march. Let 
me”— 

“ Go away ! ” I cry, raising my hands. 

“What a Uttle vixen!” and a humorous smile plays 
about his face. 

This to me ! who have been uniformly good-tempered. 

“ Well, I love you, love you ! Does that please you any 
better? I am ready to make a fool of myself at a 
moment’s notice.” 

“What do you know of love!” I fling out madly, 
thinking of his six and forty years, of his wife in her 
grave. 

“ I have dreamed of what it might be ; ” and there is a 
touching inflection in his tone. “ Chrissie, has it come in 
your life ? Have you covered it up in any grave, and gone 
your way bravely? Oh, my dear girl, will you not let me 
comfort you ? will you not give me what is left, and let me 
make it bloom afresh? Dell and Theo, for whom you 
cared so much, have gone out of your life ; will you not 
take me in to fill the empty space? ” 

I cover my face with my hands, and cry passionately at 
first. My sweet youth has gone. No lover like Franz 
Von Hillern will want to kiss my hand, my brow, or lip. 
Every year takes me farther from that radiant shore : 
does it make me less lovable ? 

“My little, tired darling!” and he kisses softly in 
among the tears. 


328 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


Some one said that to me years ago, — in another life, 
it seems to me now. 

There is a very resolute arm around me, and my head 
is pillowed upon a shoulder. I am tired and worn : he is 
strong and manly and restful. 

“ Let me tell you,” I begin with sudden earnestness ; 
and some grace of frankness leads me to confess that old 
story. 

“You were a brave little girl, Chrissie,” he replies; 
and now both hands are prisoned in his. “ Yet I almost 
wish you had set honor at nought, and married him. I 
cannot think it would have been a sin.” Oh, sweet abso- 
lution, all too late ! “ Horace Sargent is a gentleman of 

the noblest, truest stamp. His wife is — a perfect lady, 
an ornament to the world at large ; but she might have 
married any other man of means, culture, and refinement, 
and been just as happy ^ just as well satisfied. One side 
of his soul exists in a polar solitude, clear, pure, and cold. 
We have had many talks together, and are warm friends. 
He has never even hinted such a thing as another love ; 
but I always felt there was some woman, living or dead, 
that he had loved. How few in this wide world are truly 
mated ! See here, Chrissie ! When I was a youth of 
nineteen, I fell in love with some black eyes, pink cheeks, 
and merry, dancing feet. I went to college, studied hard, 
graduated, and found a place to settle ; then went back 
and married her. I was twenty-six, and slowly awaken- 
ing to other things besides black eyes and pretty feet ; yet 
I would have gone through fire to keep my word. She 
was a good housekeeper, a careful mother. The dancing- 
daj's were over, the pink cheeks merged into much dust- 
ing of rooms, mending of clothes, scolding Bridget, 
pickling and preserving, and cop3dng one’s neighbors. 
A new dress was equal to a French revolution, a spot on 
the carpet worse than a Sepoj" rebellion. There was no 
time for reading, talking, music, or pleasant indolence. 


FROM HAND TO MOUTH. 


829 


Mrso Smith’s gossip was more entertaining than the best 
lecture, or a Thomas concert. We came to a quiet, com- 
mon-place level, and there we staid. The great duty of a 
husband, in her estimation, was to provide well for his 
family, ask few questions, find no fault with what a pru- 
dent wife chose to do, never desire chicken when she had 
warmed over yesterday’s dinner. At first I tried to lift 
her out of the petty round, and it led to miserable dis- 
putes. I gave up ; and all through our later years we 
never had a word of difference. And now all that is 
ended. Mind, I am not blaming her. I chose for the 
boy ; but manhood came in, broader and higher. Chrissie, 
will you not think it over, and decide to share the years 
with me, read and talk, and drive about a little ; perhaps 
put on a ribbon or a rose when you are expecting me, or 
wear a white dress, even if I do crumple it ; make the 
room bright and cheerful with a smile of welcome. I will 
help watch over your father’s declining years. If you 
like, your parents shall have a home with us.” (Ah ! Dr. 
Sheldon, you know how to clothe your temptation in a 
seductive garb.) “ My three boys will soon be in active 
life ; and I cannot think of having all these years to come 
vacant, loveless. If you were eighteen, I would not ask 
It, even if I did love you.” 

“You are very good,” I say weakly. There is a charm 
in the brown eyes that I never saw before. 

“ I will take care of you, nurse you up a bit, comfort 
you for the loss of Dell and Theo ; and — why, we might 
go out to see Theo, if you did not mind a little sea-sick- 
ness. It will be better than teaching school, and hav- 
ing headaches, and wearing into a nervous, dispirited 
woman. As for Mrs. Sargent, I warn you she is hope- 
lessly healthy.” 

“Oh!” I cry, blushing distressfully: “I never have 
thought — I never could ’ ’ — 

“No, my darling ; ” and he kisses me again. “ I ma^ 


330 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


not be your girlhood’s ideal. But shall we refuse the 
grapes of autumn, because we cannot have the straw- 
berry of June? ” 

“ It is so strange, so unexpected ! ” I murmur. 

‘‘ Yes ; but I will be patient. Good-by, my love. To- 
morrow I will drop in again.” 

Ah ! he even kisses my poor, scrawny little hand, and 
my tumbled hair. 

He is in every day for a week. Then Mrs. Hildreth 
takes me up to Mount Pleasant, and nurses me with rare 
skill. I begin to sleep once more. The headaches dis- 
appear : there is only the intolerable weakness. 

“ Chrissie,” says Mrs. Hildreth, “I am going to engage 
a substitute for you during September. To go back in 
school would undo all you have gained.” 

Suppose I did not go back at all? Would the rising 
generation be much the loser ? There are a dozen of last 
year’s graduates waiting for a chance. 

Dell writes about their plans. Roger is coming East to 
take his chance in the New-York house. If mother is 
wilhng, they will buy the dear old cottage, and keep house, 
until Roger is rich enough to get his farm. The interest 
will be a nice little income for father and mother, who 
shall have a home with them as long as they live. Roger 
is so good ! Dell wants a grandmother in her household ; 
and there are no folks like her own. Roger has taken 
his money out of the mining stock, and will settle the 
house on her. Roger is to write about the business-part ; 
and, if the plan meets with approbation, they will be on 
by the beginning of the new year. And now, as it may 
be my last chance to visit St. Louis, will I not please 
come ? If it is lack of money, that has always been a fam- 
ily failing among us girls, she will send a ticket. 

As it is, she generously encloses twenty dollars. Dear, 
loving, mindful Dell ! 

Roger’s letter comes. Strange to relate, mother does 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


331 


favor the plan : the idea of having a baby in the house 
again ! She would rather have the place Dell’s than 
Richard’s ; for Richard’s willing feet find their way up to 
Melrose, where resideth Addie Lamed. She is a nice, 
rather showy, new-fashioned girl, who would think our 
pinches and economies very poor, pitiful things ; who 
would set a gardener at tearing up our old-time roses, and 
putting in new smart geraniums and foliage-leaf plants ; 
who would have no foolish sentiment for a worn place in 
the carpet, and consider me a decided old maid. Well, 
maybe I thought so at eighteen. 

I talk it over with Dr. Sheldon. 

‘‘There!” he exclaims triumphantly: “you reaUy 
can be allowed to marry with a clear conscience. You 
will not be needed ” (oh, rather sad joy, when 3"outh is 
gone) . “And see here, Chrissie, we might go to St. Louis 
on ” — 

He stops and actually blushes. 

After all, forty-six is not so fearfully old. He does 
love me, and it is sweet to be loved, even if you are no 
longer young. Mother likes him. He has been such a 
good friend to us all I 

Does the life of poverty and work look so inviting, en- 
nobling? I have never seen Niagara, Canada, the Lakes, 
hardly any thing “outside of the city limits,” as Theo 
used to say. And oh, Germany and Theo I 

Shall I desecrate any old ideal by marrpng this good, 
kindly man, and being happy with him the rest of my 
life? 

“ Who do you think is put up for mayor? ” says father, 
coming in all excitement, with a large poster in his hand. 
“He stands a mighty good chance for election tool” 
“Stephen Miller. The working-man’s candidate.” 

Think of Martha Miller being the mayor’s lady, and all 
Northwood proud of her notice ! 

Well, fate does play strange antics! 


382 


FEOM HAND TO MOUTH. 


“ What will you give me for my news? ” says Dr. Shel- 
don, with a beatific smile. “ Herr and Madame Von 
Hillern have a little daughter, and all is well. Theo will 
live to be a Deutche Grossmiitter yet. 

“ Oh ! says mother, crying and laughing in a breath, 
and holding out her hand for the letter. 

Then he comes over to my corner. 

“ Chrissie, do you never mean to answer my question?’* 

His eyes are impatient lover’s eyes. 

Shall it be yes, or no? 


BRAVE HEART SERIES 

By ADELE E. THOMPSOM 

Betty Seldon, Patriot 

Illustrated by Lilian Crawford True 
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Historical events are accurately traced leading 
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Ready September 7 , igoy 

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LEE AND SHEPARD BOSTON 




We Four Girls 

By Mary G. Darling i2mo Cloth Il- 
lustrated by Bertha G. Davidson* 
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“ TT 7 ‘E FOUR GIRLS” is a bright 
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LEE AND SHEPARD BOSTON 





The Quinnebasset Series 

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“ COPHIE MAY” writes with a remarkable in. 

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LEE AND SHEPARD BOSTON 






L 





OCT 12 1805^;,' 





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